Things Lost
by Kazzoh
Summary: When all seems lost, how will Darien cope?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Would you like to see an I-Man movie that would reunite the original cast? Amanda Rogers has entered the Dockers Wear The Pants contest on Facebook to help fund her project, but she urgently needs votes. Please go to Facebook and enter Shoom Zone Productions into the search facility to find out more information from there. **

**Alternatively, if you click on 'homepage' at my profile on this site it will take you to Shoom Zone directly where you can click on the link to vote. The deadline is fast approaching, so any support would be wonderful! Thanks :D**

Now on with the story. This was my first attempt at fan fiction and was originally posted in 2003. Episode 2 tomorrow :)

**Title**: Things Lost

Author: Kazzoh

Rating: T

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: When all seems lost, how will Darien cope?

Timeline: Five months after The New Stuff.

Chapter 1

A witty guy called Oscar Wilde had one of his characters observe, " To lose one parent…may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness."* Yeah well, over the years I'd lost both of my parents and plenty of other people I'd cared about, in one way or another. I can tell you one thing for sure, it wasn't funny and I wasn't ready to lose anyone else…

*(Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest)

A tall, slim figure sauntered slowly down the dimly lit basement corridor, paused before an ugly metal door, and with a flourish, swiped a magnetic key card through a lock on the wall.

"Morning there Keepie," Darien called as soon as the door swooshed open.

"Good morning Darien," replied the blond haired woman he was addressing. She was busy supervising the stacking of a delivery of new equipment behind the glass screens that divided the lab, but turned towards him and observed, "You're late this morning aren't you?"

"Yeah, well I stopped off for supplies," he answered with a smile, as he placed three Starbucks coffee cups and a box of Danish pastries on her desk. He perched on a chair next to the desk, picked up one of the pastries and started to eat.

Claire smiled as she watched Darien devour his breakfast. Over the five months since they'd returned to work for the Agency this had become part of their morning routine. She thought she'd be seeing less of Darien now that he no longer needed injections of counteragent. Thankfully that had not proven to be the case.

As a complete contrast to his quicksilver-madness days Darien always arrived early, usually bearing breakfast and hung out with her and Bobby in the Keep until it was time for work. However that still didn't mean he turned up to meetings on time. Claire's smile broadened. If there was a briefing scheduled he would wait in the Keep just long enough to get the Official steaming, then saunter in as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Thanks Joe," Claire said addressing the deliveryman, as she signed the sheet he presented to her. "See you in a couple of weeks," she added as he waved and left.

"Got any yoghurts?" Darien asked as he made his way over to the refrigerator in the corner.

"Yes, top shelf," Claire laughed. You know, with the amount you eat, you should be the size of a blimp."

"Yeah, well I've got a fast metabolism. Need to keep up my strength!" Darien replied flashing his trademark grin. He removed a pot from the shelf, grabbed a spoon from above the refrigerator door and headed back to his chair.

Oh, it was lovely to see him like this Claire thought happily. She still marvelled at how he had changed. He was still essentially, well, Darien, but he seemed more relaxed these days, more content with his lot in life.

When they'd originally met he'd seemed to be the selfish, irresponsible larcenist, she'd been told to expect. Even Kevin's description of his younger brother had been along the same lines, except for his assertion that somewhere beneath his wise-cracking, rebellious exterior lurked a much better person.

It had taken only a short time before the evidence of this 'better person' had started to come to light. He'd immediately shown himself to be insightful and intelligent, with a natural aptitude for his new job. However, the thing that made it impossible for her to remain the remote, detached Keeper she was supposed to be, was his caring and sensitive nature. Darien may have felt used and trapped, but he'd put himself in harms way time and time again to protect and help others.

Claire's thoughts strayed to the memories of those terrible weeks when the counteragent had begun to lose its effectiveness. She shivered as she remembered how Darien had tried to stay optimistic and bravely did his best to hide his rising fear and panic. The image of his face when she'd been forced to lie to him about receiving the cure from Arnaud still haunted her dreams. He'd looked so lost and vulnerable as she'd watched the hope die in his eyes.

Shaking herself, Claire brought her focus back to the present. They'd managed to get through that terrible time, thank God. Here was Darien, healthy, and by his own admission, happier than he could ever remember. He had a job he'd now chosen, friends he loved and trusted, and freedom from quicksilver madness.

Darien was not a violent person and it had eaten him up inside that he could so easily lose control and hurt others, even those he cared about the most. Typically he'd always blamed himself for his actions whilst under the influence of the madness, however much they'd tried to convince him of the truth. Even the realisation that the pre-QSM headaches still afflicted him with overuse of the quicksilver gland couldn't dampen his enthusiasm for his new life.

"Um, Claire?" Darien's worried voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

She looked up to see Darien leaning towards her with concern on his face. She smiled brightly at him, "Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking…."

Claire was interrupted by the swoosh of the Keep's door as Bobby Hobbes strutted in, pointing at his watch and tutting at Darien.

"The 'Fish is just about ready to explode up there my friend," Hobbes reported. "Time to go." Turning to Claire he flashed her a smile and said, "See ya later Keepie."

Darien rolled his eyes, picked up two cups of coffee and, with a cheery wave at his Keeper, followed Bobby through the door.

"Don't forget our date tonight Darien," Claire called after him. She heard Darien's answering groan and smiled again. It was becoming a habit she was indulging in a lot these days.

Darien slouched low in a chair in the Official's office, staring at the sign above his boss's head. They'd been back under the auspices of the Department of Fish and Game since saving the potential cancer-curing crop from Chrysalis' invisible locusts months ago. He kind of missed entering the room to discover which new and ever more obscure agency they were paying rent to that month.

"Fawkes," barked the Official loudly. "Pay attention!"

Sitting up slightly, Darien saluted his boss sloppily, "Yes Sir." The Fat Man must have noticed he'd zoned out there for a while.

"You're really pushing it today Fawkes," Bobby murmured angrily as he leaned towards his partner.

"You think?" asked Darien with a smile.

With a glare aimed at Fawkes and a nod to Eberts, the Official signalled the beginning of the briefing.

"We have received some very disturbing information from a number of sources that would seem to suggest Chrysalis has finally completed its reorganisation," Eberts began as he handed out neatly typed information sheets. "It has been confirmed that Jared Stark has been replaced and effectively demoted within the organisation. The new head of the North American sector is thought to be a woman named Tabitha, but further details on her are rather sketchy at the moment. However, we believe that a major move on their part will occur within the next couple of months."

The Official looked over to where Darien and Hobbes were thumbing through the pages they had been given. He smiled internally as he saw the subtle differences in Fawkes' demeanour now that something had piqued his interest. It was part of the game they played. Fawkes feigned disinterest and he played the heartless, uncaring boss. Not that it was all an act exactly. He'd been criticised in the past by colleagues for caring too much for those under his command, but if the security of the Nation were at stake, personal attachments would always take second place.

"One of our contacts has hinted that a member of Chrysalis might be willing to sell documentation detailing their plans," Eberts continued. "As a consequence we would like you to make contact with this individual and obtain the information so we can verify its authenticity. The meeting is arranged for 11am. You will find the location in your handout.

The Official retrieved a briefcase from underneath his desk and handed it to Bobby. "You'll need this," he informed the agent.

"Wait, you're telling me that someone from Chrysalis is willing to sell out to us?" Darien asked sceptically. "From what we've seen he'd have to be certifiable. Chrysalis tends to have one answer to betrayal, and I'm not sure a swift death is the payday this guy'll be looking for!"

"His reasons aren't important. We need that information and I want it on my desk by this afternoon," the Official growled. "Now, get out there and make that deal." The look on his face brooked no argument.

Bobby stood immediately and turned to offer his partner a hand up. Darien accepted it and hauled himself lazily out of his chair. As they left the office and headed for the front doors Hobbes knew he was in for a difficult morning. Fawkes had a look on his face that said he was less than happy about the situation.

"So, where are we supposed to meet this guy anyway?" Darien asked as Hobbes pulled up opposite a large department store.

Bobby nodded his head to the building and said, "Lingerie department, third floor".

"You're kidding, right?" Darien looked surprised and slightly uncomfortable.

"Nope, it was their call. Lets go." Hobbes grabbed the briefcase he'd stowed behind the driver's seat and set off across the road.

"How are we gonna blend in, I mean we can't really keep a low profile can we?" moaned Darien as he trailed behind.

Hobbes chose to ignore him and led the way into the store. As they entered the lingerie department Bobby started browsing through the racks with purpose. Darien looked decidedly uncomfortable and was silently regretting not quicksilvering in the elevator on the way up.

"May I be of assistance?" came a female voice from behind Darien. Startled, he turned to see an assistant standing there.

"Um…I…um," he began.

The assistant tried to hide a smile and said, "Don't worry, we find a lot of gentlemen need a little help when making purchases for the lady in their lives. Shall we start with which items you're looking for, then what size?" she asked expectantly, gesturing to the lacy thongs on the rack next to him.

"Um…size?" Darien muttered, looking like a startled rabbit.

As if in answer to a prayer, Bobby moved smoothly into view, taking the assistant by the hand and introducing himself.

"Hello there. My name is Robert Hobbes and this is my associate Darien Fawkes. We're marketing a new line of lingerie called Butterflies and your head buyer suggested we call by today to show him some of our samples." Bobby looked every inch the marketing executive as he turned on the charm.

"Oh, I see," replied the assistant in disappointment as she saw her chances of a sale disappear. I'll go and inform Mr Brubaker you're here." With that she turned and headed towards the phone on the sales desk.

A few minutes later they were being ushered into Mr Brubaker's spacious office. As soon as the assistant left, closing the door behind her, Mr Brubaker spoke, "Let's get down to business. I have the information. Did your boss agreed to my fee?"

"The money's right here," confirmed Bobby patting the briefcase.

"But first, we'd like to clear up a few things" Darien interrupted, ignoring Bobby's obvious irritation. "What's a member of Chrysalis doing working in a department store anyway and why are you helping us?"

"I act as a courier for Chrysalis. What better cover than as a buyer for a reputable department store? I transport 'samples' with me as well as more legitimate items. Who's going to notice a few extra boxes here or there?" Mr Brubaker paused to look directly at Fawkes.

"As to why I wish to terminate my involvement with the organisation, lets just say that Tabitha has been questioning my loyalty based on my erstwhile friendship with Jared Stark. I think a strategic withdrawal from circulation for a while is the prudent course of action, before Tabitha decides to make it a more permanent arrangement," he concluded nervously.

"Yeah, right," was Darien's only comment.

Hobbes and Brubaker exchanged briefcases and after a cursory check of the contents both men appeared satisfied.

"Nice doing business with you," were Mr Brubaker's parting words.

They were on their way back to the agency within ten minutes.

"This information will prove invaluable in our fight against Chrysalis," the Official announced happily that evening. They had spent the afternoon sifting through the documents Brubaker had provided. There were details of a proposed meeting between senior members of the organisation, including the location and date. Eberts had disappeared earlier to locate schematics for the suspect building and plans of the surrounding area.

The Official was in serious gloat mode. This case was going to put the Agency well and truly back amongst the big players and strike a significant blow against those genetically modified whackos.

Eberts came bustling back into the office carrying a precarious pile of files and what looked like rolled up blueprints. He was walking at an angle in an attempt to keep everything balanced. Just when it looked like he would lose the battle Hobbes stepped up to help him.

"Why thank you Robert," Ebert said with a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

"No problema," Hobbes replied genially.

Hobbes had originally been downright hostile towards Eberts, considering him to be the epitome of every single penny-pinching, pencil pusher who'd ever screwed him out of sizeable chunks of his salary. However, over the past year he'd begun to soften his attitude. A little bonding over 'injuries received in the line of duty' in the filing room and occasions when Eberts' had been willing to come out from the boss's shadow had shown a different side to his character. Especially when it had come down to protecting Adam Reece. They owed him big time for that one.

"I have managed to procure the necessary plans Sir," Eberts confirmed to the Official.

"Good, good." Borden looked over at Hobbes. "I want you to take them home Bobby. Consider all surveillance and containment possibilities and be ready to report your conclusions first thing Monday morning."

"Yes Sir!" came Hobbes enthusiastic reply.

Darien smiled over at his partner. Bobby loved this kind of stuff.

The meeting broke up with the Official growling at Darien, "First thing Fawkes!"

Darien just grinned mischievously and sauntered after Hobbes.

Once in the corridor the two agents headed for the front door in silence until Bobby spoke up. "Aren't you forgetting something my friend?"

"Huh?" asked Fawkes in confusion.

"It's the first Friday in the month," Bobby informed him with an evil smile. "Wouldn't want you missing your 'date' with the Keeper there.

"Oh crap!" was Darien's only response as he checked his watch and broke into a run as he headed back down the corridor to the elevator.

"See ya later Fawkes," Bobby called after him still smiling.

"Sorry I'm late Keep!" Darien panted as he arrived breathless at the lab. It was one thing to yank the Official's chain, but he was making a real effort to be punctual with his friends these days.

"Not to worry Darien," she replied pleasantly. "Albert was telling me you were in a meeting with the Official all afternoon."

"Yeah, we got some info today that means we should be able to bag us some seriously important bad guys," Darien drawled as he threw himself onto the demented dentist's chair.

"Mmmm," Claire replied distractedly as she collected some instruments together, placed them on a rolling tray and moved towards Darien.

"Blood?" Darien asked with a resigned sigh.

"I think we'll start there," Claire agreed. She quickly took a blood sample with practised ease. Darien sighed again as he held a small cotton ball over the puncture wound. He could hear his Keeper moving around behind one of the glass screens.

Claire had suggested these little 'dates' of theirs after the first reoccurrence of the pre QSM headaches. He'd been on an assignment with Hobbes and Monroe, following a Senatorial aide who was suspected of leaking classified information to the media. Believing there was no longer a time limit to staying quicksilvered Darien had been using the gland extensively for four days. The pain had started gradually, just a vague discomfort at first, then becoming an annoying ache a day or so later. On the fifth day he had obtained some pretty damning evidence after a little invisible B&E at the aide's apartment. He was just heading back to the van when the pain hit.

It had felt like the back of his skull was going to explode and before he knew it his head was pounding into the sidewalk, scattering flakes of quicksilver in all directions. Hobbes had been at his side in seconds offering soothing words and comfort until the pain subsided. The ride back to the Agency had been hell. Alex had driven like a woman possessed, whilst Hobbes cradled Darien's head in his lap in the back of the van. He was convinced the 'cure' Arnaud had provided was only temporary and with the monitor on his wrist still showing all green he was afraid he would attack and kill his best friend at any moment.

Back at the keep Claire had given the barely conscious Darien a dose of counteragent, from a batch she had produced to help her with her experiments. It had had no effect and the painkillers she'd tried were not very successful. Darien had drifted in and out of consciousness for most of the night. In his pain free, lucid moments he'd begged to die. He couldn't face going back to the days of QSM.

Luckily the extensive test the Keeper ran revealed the pain was being caused by a reflexive spasming of the gland due to overuse and was not a precursor to quicksilver madness. By the next day the pain was beginning to lessen naturally.

With a flash of her usual genius Claire had eventually come up with a relaxant to use in future attacks. When injected directly into the gland it eased the spasms within minutes, though it left Darien aching and exhausted for hours.

The bottom line was Bobby and Claire had come through for him again. He really didn't know how he was ever going to repay them. If it took the rest of his life he'd vowed he would do his best to show them how much they meant to him.

"Darien…Darien?" Claire's voice cut through his reverie.

"Huh? Oh sorry," Darien apologised. "What's wrong?"

"Where were you?" Claire asked.

"You know, like you said this morning – just thinking…" Darien answered with a faint smile.

"Well, your blood and quicksilver levels are stable, no problems there," Claire reported with a reassuring smile of her own.

"Good, what next?" Darien muttered, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Well, there are a few new tests I want to do on your eyes to see if we can finally track down what's giving you those occasional problems with your sight, but…." She hesitated, "I've been working on a new formula for the relaxant. If it works, we'll be able to inject it into a vein instead of the gland and it will hopefully cut down on your recovery time.

Darien sat up quickly. "Well that sounds like a good thing, right?" Claire had started accompanying them on missions where Darien was expected to use a lot of quicksilver. Injecting into the gland was a delicate procedure and she wouldn't allow Bobby or Alex to take on the task. It was just too risky. However, they both had experience administering the counteragent and the new injection would require the same technique.

"Yes," Claire agreed. "Animal testing has been very successful, but I need to test it under controlled circumstances before I can authorise it for use in the field." She looked meaningfully at him.

"What?" Darien asked in confusion. Suddenly it struck him what she meant. "Oh," he managed to whisper as realisation dawned. "No, no, no, no!" He stood up quickly and shook his head vigorously as he walked across the lab. "No way Claire, okay? It's bad enough when it happens by accident, but you want me to push the limit on purpose?"

Claire walked over to Darien and took his hands in her own.

"I know it's not a pleasant experience," she said in a soothing tone, "but this new formula has the potential to significantly improve your condition. I'm pretty sure it will work perfectly, I just want to be certain."

Before he could answer a muffled boom could be heard above them.

"What was that?" Darien asked with a start, as two more muffled booms shook the building. Claire had no time to answer as an explosion on the far side of the lab stopped any further comment. It shattered the glass screens and the last thing Darien remembered was flying through the air, before crashing to the floor in a crumpled heap.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The first thing he became aware of with returning consciousness was pain. An all-encompassing universe of pain. Darien tried to take a deep breath, but a moan escaped his lips instead as he realised this only intensified the agony.

"He's comin' round Hanks." Darien heard a man's voice comment with relief.

"No thanks to you!" another voice replied angrily. "You dumb shit, you weren't supposed to damage the merchandise!"

The two men began arguing bitterly, but silence fell between them as distant sirens could be heard approaching fast.

"Christ, what a freakin' screw up!" the second voice exclaimed. "Get him Davis and lets get the hell out of here."

Darien tried to convince his eyes it might be a good idea if they opened, but they were refusing to cooperate. It felt as though they'd been welded shut. With a super-human effort he managed to prise his right eye open just enough to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

Debris and mangled furniture littered the floor around him and he realised with a jolt of anxiety that he was in the Keep. What the hell had happened?

He saw a pair of legs and a figure looming over him before he was roughly manhandled and hauled over the man's shoulder. He gasped as intense pain coursed through his body. His grip on consciousness was slipping, but as he was carried out of the door he caught sight of the seemingly lifeless form of his Keeper lying on the floor by her wrecked computer station.

"Oh God" he managed to croak as his heart lurched with concern. "Please… " he began, but was interrupted by one of the assailants.

"Which way?" asked Davis

"Not the elevator, it's not safe. Head for the stairs," replied Hanks.

There was debris strewn all around the corridor and in the stairwell and they had to struggle to make their way through. By the time they reached the entrance level both men were breathing heavily.

"Please …" Darien tried again, fighting the rising nausea he felt. "Claire…." How could they just leave her lying there? He'd seen blood running freely onto the floor from an obvious head wound.

Davis and Hanks ignored his pleas as they steadily made their way towards the front doors of the Agency. Just as it looked like they were home free the sirens wailed loudly outside the building and sounds of approaching emergency services personnel could clearly be heard.

Both men exchanged panicked looks and mouthed colourful expletives.

"Leave him!" Hanks shouted as he turned around and started running back the way they had come.

The man carrying Darien stuttered to a halt, with a confused look on his face. "But…"

"I said leave him!" spat Hanks. "If we're caught we won't live to see tomorrow. You think the boss couldn't reach right into prison and snap our necks without a second thought? Now come on!"

Darien felt himself being shrugged off Davis' shoulder and he landed hard on the faded linoleum floor. He grunted as the air was expelled from his lungs. The quickly fading footsteps of the would-be kidnappers heading for the rear exit were replaced by the sound of people entering the building through the front double doors.

As blackness encroached on Darien's consciousness once again he felt a cool hand on his neck as the paramedic checked for a pulse.

"This one's alive!" he shouted.

Darien tried to speak, but his words came out in a garbled rush.

"Hey, hey, it's okay – take it easy," said the paramedic soothingly.

"Please …my Keeper…help her…Cla…" he managed to mutter as the darkness finally claimed him.

Beep, beep, beep, beep. What was that annoying noise? Darien attempted to make sense of what he was hearing. Beep, beep. He tried to move his head towards the sound, but thought better of it as pain lanced through his head.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed.

"Ah, Mr Fawkes," said a drawling voice. "I see you've decided to join us"

Darien looked up to see a balding middle-aged man in a white coat standing at the side of his bed.

"Wh...wh?" said Darien attempting to speak, but finding his tongue had other ideas.

"Easy there Mr Fawkes, you're in hospital. There was an explosion at your workplace two days ago.."

"Two days?" Darien gasped. "What…?" he faltered as memories of the explosions and Claire lying injured on the floor of the Keep assaulted his mind.

"Claire!" he exclaimed, trying to lever himself up off the bed. He screamed as his body punished him for attempting to move and slumped back pale, sweating and exhausted.

"Please Mr Fawkes, calm yourself, you've sustained some fairly serious injuries and you need to rest. I'm your doctor, Dr Evans. Miss Keeply is in the next room and she's receiving the best of care," he assured his patient.

Darien visibly relaxed and his eyelids started to droop. "So she's gonna be fine?" he managed to mumble before falling asleep.

Dr Evans took a moment to check to see if Darien was sleeping peacefully, gave the monitors a cursory glance, then turned to leave the room. As he exited the door he was confronted by a younger man in the corridor. He was dressed immaculately in a black designer suit, white shirt and red silk tie.

"Well?" demanded the man. By the tone of his voice it was obvious this man was used to being in charge - someone it would be foolish to contradict or disappoint.

Dr Evans swallowed hard, knowing the information he had to share would not be well received.

"Well Sir, he's stable, but I'm afraid the injuries he sustained will take some time to heal. The force of the explosion must have thrown him onto his left side because most of the damage is located there. The dislocated shoulder has been strapped and a cast placed on his left wrist," Dr Evans said, as he began listing Darien's injuries.

"There are a couple of broken ribs, with a few more that are probably cracked. We've removed several large pieces of glass that were quite deeply embedded in his side. Those wounds could become a cause for concern if infection sets in, but all we can do at the moment is keep an eye on them. However, the injury, which has the most bearing on whether Mr Fawkes can carry out his job, is the one to his knee. It's extremely swollen at the moment and, although we've managed to reposition the kneecap, ligaments have been torn and there's some obvious muscle damage. It would have been better if he'd broken his leg." Dr Evans finished summing up his patient's condition and waited for the other man's reaction.

He didn't have to wait long. The last word was hardly out of his mouth when the suited man began to vent his feelings.

"When I find those bastards I'm going to personally smear them all over the floor," he shouted. The man visibly fought with his raging emotions. "Have you told him about the others yet?" he continued in a much calmer voice.

"I told him his Keeper is alive, but that's all so far. He fell asleep before I could say anything else." Evans informed him.

"Well, I want him told as soon as possible, is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," Dr Evans replied promptly.

"Mr Fawkes, are you awake?" a female voice enquired.

"Huh? Um, Yeah," Darien replied as he tried to pull himself back to full consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes to see a bright-eyed young nurse standing at the side of his bed. He felt groggy and struggled to focus on the young blond haired woman. Must be meds for the pain. He sighed with relief. There was still pain, practically everywhere, but now it was manageable.

Sun was streaming through the window of Darien's room and he realised just how bright it was as he turned away from the nurse, who was readjusting the IV needle in his arm. He hated needles! As he squinted towards the window he tried to lift his left arm to shield his eyes, but nothing happened. Looking down he saw that his arm was in a cast from elbow to hand and there was strapping around his shoulder and torso. A frame over the bed supported his left leg in a type of sling.

"Aw crap!" he exclaimed. "What happened?" He let out a groan as his ribs protested at his overenthusiastic exclamations.

The young nurse fussed around his bed, but didn't answer him. She straightened the sheets one last time and headed for the door.

"Dr Evans will be with you in a few minutes," she informed him. Flashing him a brief smile she left the room.

Darien laid there, confusion causing a jumble of different thoughts and questions to flit through his mind. What had happened? Where was Bobby? What about Claire? Claire!

Just as the memories of what had happened in the Keep started to replay in his mind, fuelling his rising panic, the door to his room opened and Dr Evans entered.

"Ah, Mr Fawkes, glad to see you're back in the land of the living," he commented distractedly as he checked Darien's chart.

"Doc, how's Claire?" asked Darien, unable to wait any longer.

The doctor picked up a chair by the window and carried it to the side of Darien's bed. He sat down and placed the clipboard he was carrying onto his lap.

"I'm afraid Miss Keeply's condition is extremely critical," Evans replied with concern. "She suffered severe trauma to her head in the explosion and I'm afraid it's too early to tell the scale of the damage.

"But she's going to be fine, right?" Darien's large brown eyes looked pleadingly at the doctor.

"As I said, it's too early to tell. We're doing everything we can but…" Dr Evans finished with a shrug and a shake of his head.

Darien lay there stunned. He looked away from the other man to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I'm also the bearer of more sad news Mr Fawkes," the doctor continued. "A number of your co-workers were killed in the explosion. I, ah, I understand Mr Robert Hobbes registered you as his next of kin.

Darien's head jerked back to the doctor, a look of horror on his face.

" You don't mean…you can't mean…" he stuttered to a halt.

"I'm truly sorry Mr Fawkes, I understand he was your partner."

"No, no, no," Darien began, shaking his head vigorously and ignoring the pain in his shoulders and back. "He can't be dead, he wasn't even there that night. I was only there because the Keeper, I mean Claire, wanted to do some tests…um." Darien stopped talking, unsure how much the doctor knew about him. If he let any secrets slip the Official would have his ass.

"Ask my boss," he continued. "He'll tell you."

"I'm really sorry Darien," said the doctor, switching to his forename for the first time. "Apparently your employer called Mr Hobbes in for an urgent briefing twenty minutes before the bombs were detonated. His body is currently down in the hospital's morgue. I'm afraid they have only found partial remains from Mr Borden and Mr Eberts."

Darien gasped for breath as it felt like a tight band was slowing being squeezed around his chest. His lungs wouldn't work!

Dr Evans stood up quickly. "Nurse!" he bellowed.

"Look at me Mr Fawkes!" the doctor said urgently as he placed Darien's head between his hands. Darien's eyes turned to stare at him. "Please calm down, you need to breath, slow and deep." He saw the grief and loss reflected there, together with the panic that was flowing through his patient. Evans could see Darien battling to follow his advice, and slowly he began to take ragged breaths.

The nurse arrived and handed the doctor a filled syringe. Evans spoke soothingly as he injected the substance into Darien. "I'm just giving you something to help you relax, okay?" then he watched as Darien's body relaxed and his eyes slowly slid shut.

Evans breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it was too much information too soon," he said to no-one in particular. "Still, I didn't expect such an extreme reaction."

Four days later Darien was in no mood for arguments. They were still pumping him full of drugs and he felt they were deliberately keeping him groggy and sluggish. He'd been lying there for hours trying to put his thoughts in order and fighting the pain meds when they threatened to send him into drug induced sleep. Nevertheless, he'd finally worked it out. Bobby, Eberts and the Official weren't really dead. These people were lying, kidnapping bastards and he had to get away. He didn't know what their game was, but he wasn't playing this time. They'd refused to let him see Claire, saying it would upset him too much to see her in her current condition. They'd even tried to tell him she was in a coma, with little chance of recovery. Ha! Hell, they'd even refused to let him see Hobbes' body.

There was absolutely no proof about anything he'd been told since waking up in the hospital. Darien had had his head messed with by enough pros to recognise a con when he saw it and he wasn't going to fall for this one. He'd even told them so in no uncertain terms. All he had to do now was think of a plan. He looked ruefully down at his injuries. If only they weren't real! It looked like he would have to bide his time, at least for now.

Just then the door to his room swung open and in walked Dr Evans flanked by two burly orderlies.

"Right Mr Fawkes," he said briskly.

"What, you gonna get them to finish the job?" Darien snarled, nodding towards the two newcomers. "Now I'm wise to your game, there's really no need to keep playing."

Dr Evans smiled sadly. "No Mr Fawkes, these men are merely here to help me comply with your request to see your partner's body. This delusional state you seem to have lapsed into is unhealthy and is hindering your recovery. It's against my better judgement with regards to your physical well-being, but if that's what it takes – so be it," he concluded with a shrug of his shoulders.

Darien was quite frankly stunned by this turn of events. "Oh," was all he could manage to say before a nurse bustled in to detach him from the monitors around his bed. Finally she unhooked the IV bags from their pole and said "Ready doctor".

The orderlies manoeuvred Darien's bed around and through the open door. Dr Evans and the nurse holding the IV bags flanked the bed as they made their way down the corridor to the waiting elevator.

Darien's thoughts were racing. What if it was true? What if Hobbes really was dead? No! Darien stamped on that idea straight away. They were still trying to trick him. They'd show him some badly burnt cadaver and try to pass it off as Bobby. Yes, that's what they were trying to do. He relaxed slightly and tried to ignore the pain caused by the movement of the bed.

As the doors to the morgue opened there was a distinct chill to the air. Dr Evans nodded to the assistant they'd found there and said, "Number 14".

The assistant answered the nod with one of his own and proceeded to open the latch on drawer 14. He slid out the shroud-covered body, then stepped back.

Dr Evans turned to Darien. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"Absolutely," Darien replied without hesitation.

Evans folded the covering back from the face of the cadaver and then moved so that the orderlies could position the bed next to the table.

Darien looked down at that oh, so familiar face. He gasped and all colour drained from his face. He reached out and traced the contours of Bobby Hobbes' face with his hand.

"Oh God…" he managed to utter before the tears started to flow. A sob escaped his lips, followed by an anguished howl. It was true. It was all true. Bobby was dead - the Official, Eberts. What if Claire died too? They were his friends, hell, his family. What would he do without them?

Tears were pouring down his face, accompanied by gut wrenching sobs. Pain was shooting through his body, but he didn't care. All that mattered was Bobby really was dead.

Dr Evans waited for a few minutes, then moved to administer another sedative. His plan seemed to have worked.

As Darien slipped into unconsciousness Evans looked at the assistant and gestured towards the body.

"Make sure that gets back before it's missed," he instructed dispassionately.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Darien was lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the events fate had decided to throw at him. It had been almost a week since he'd seen Hobbes' body in the morgue. When he'd woken from the sedative he'd felt numb, empty inside. He might just as well have been dead himself. After all, the life he had known, and was just beginning to enjoy, was gone forever. Everyone who'd defined and enriched his life had left him to cope alone.

As if that wasn't enough, his job was no longer there either, because without Charlie Borden the Agency had been disbanded and the few remaining agents reassigned. Even the Harding building had been destroyed – bulldozed because of structural weaknesses caused by the explosions.

The only good news Darien had received since waking up in the hospital was that Alex Monroe had not been at the Agency that night. However, when he'd asked to see her he was told of her re-assignment to the CIA and immediate posting abroad. Apparently Alex had stopped by to say goodbye, but he'd been unconscious. The only evidence of her visit was a small brown teddy bear by his bed, a message telling him to stay strong and a promise to visit as soon as her assignment was completed.

Darien heaved a sigh, turning towards the door as it started to open.

"Good morning Mr Fawkes," came Dr Evan's cheerful voice as he entered. "How are we feeling today?"

Darien may have been over medicated and at the mercy of those who dealt with his every physical need, but that didn't explain why he didn't like this man. Dr Evans was obviously English, just like his Keeper, but there was nothing of her warmth in his precise diction. Something about the doctor just didn't sit well with him. Realising Evans was waiting for an answer he said, "Okay I guess." There was no enthusiasm in his reply.

"Good, good," said the doctor absently as he made notes on his ever present clipboard.

"Who's looking after Pavlov?" Darien asked suddenly. He'd been thinking about him on and off all morning.

"I beg your pardon?" Evans asked in a confused tone.

"Claire's dog," Darien explained, "Who's taking care of him?"

"Oh, I...ah…I really couldn't say," Evans stammered uncomfortably. After a slight pause he continued, "Would you like me to find out for you?"

Darien nodded quickly. As Dr Evans busied himself checking the monitors, Darien asked another question, this time the same one he'd been asking for days, "Can I see Claire?"

Evans smiled slightly as he turned to look at his patient. "You're very persistent aren't you?" After a few moments thought the doctor answered, "I'll make you a deal. You eat all your lunch and we'll take you through to see her this afternoon, alright?"

Darien's eyes showed real interest for the first time since he'd been admitted. "Really?" he asked, not daring to believe his ears.

"Certainly," replied Evans. "But you must finish all your lunch remember. Forgive me for saying so, but you really can't afford to lose any more weight." He emphasised his point by nodding towards Darien's torso, where his ribs were becoming painfully obvious through the skin.

"Um… I'm not really hungry," Darien muttered.

"Do we have a deal?" pushed the doctor. Fawkes would need all his strength in the coming weeks and months.

"I'll try okay?" Darien fudged.

"Not good enough Mr Fawkes. The deal is non-negotiable," Evans insisted.

Darien sighed deeply, staring up at the ceiling. "Okay, okay, all of it," he agreed with another resigned sigh. It would be worth it to see Claire.

At two o'clock that afternoon the two burly orderlies were back and Darien was taken to Claire's room. He'd been warned to prepare himself, but he still let out a gasp as he saw her lying there unmoving and as pale as death. The ventilator next to the bed hissed loudly with every breath it pumped into his Keeper's lungs.

"Oh Claire!" he whispered and silent tears began to roll unchecked down his cheeks. "Can I hold her hand?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes from her face.

With a quick nod from Dr Evans, Darien was manoeuvred into position. Claire's seemingly lifeless hand was placed in his own and he took it gently. It felt so strange, almost surreal. His Keeper was right next to him, but he felt no connection to her, almost as if he were looking at a stranger. There was no sense of anything that had made her 'Claire' – his doctor, confidante and friend. Her warm smile and the blue eyes that could light up her face were missing.

Claire and Bobby had sustained him, protected and cared for him during the most difficult two years of his life. He'd already lost Bobby and now he was also being asked to say goodbye to Claire. Dr Evans had told him just before the visit that she would never recover. The latest batch of tests had revealed no brain activity and they were going to switch off the ventilator. It was so like Claire to have made a living will and to want her organs to help others. Her compassionate heart would beat for someone else, giving them another chance at life. Just as she had given him another chance.

Darien sat there in silence, trying to comprehend how his life had once again turned so dramatically in such a short space of time. Was it really only two short weeks ago they had all been in the Keep laughing and joking? He, Bobby, Claire and Alex had been goofing around, trying to persuade a reluctant Eberts to put aside his solitary night of computer gaming and join them at the bowling alley.

He shook his head and wiped his eyes. He didn't want to remember that happy time at the moment. Everything was too raw and too real to think of the happy camaraderie they had shared. Before death and destruction had shattered their lives.

"I'm ready," he managed to croak, as he kissed the tips of his fingers and placed them on Claire's pale cheek. Darien took her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. The click of the ventilator's off switch sounded so loud in the hushed room. The steady beep, beep of the heart monitor slowed and stuttered, until a continuous tone signalled flatline.

Darien felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed hard in an attempt to hold down the lunch he had struggled to eat earlier in the day. He concentrated hard on a small crack in the ceiling to try and stop the tears from overwhelming him. Someone gently removed Claire's hand from his grip and Dr Evans placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He produced a syringe and injected the contents into Darien's arm.

"This will help you sleep," he said simply.

Darien tried to twist around. "No, I don't…" was all he managed to say before the sedative took effect.

Checking that Darien had succumbed to the drug, Evans ordered, "Take him back to his room and watch him." Turning back to the body on the bed, he detached the monitors and slowly began to peel off Claire's hair and skin to reveal a plain looking woman with close-cropped red hair beneath.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Is it done?" demanded the designer suit clad figure waiting in the corridor ten minutes later.

"Yes, the last link to his old life has been severed," replied Dr Evans with a tired sigh, as he emerged from Darien's room. "The cloned skin and cartilage technique Arnaud de Fehrn provided us with worked perfectly."

"Good," responded the other man. "The way things have been going lately I was beginning to wonder whether my luck would ever improve." He hesitated, and seemed to realise he had revealed too much, showing weakness. Continuing in a harsher tone he said, "Hanks and Davis have yet to be traced. However, the delay in their capture gives me longer to plan a very slow and agonising demise for them." Their over-enthusiasm for explosives could have royally screwed up his scheme.

"Mr Darien Fawkes is integral to my plans. Without his assistance our little coup will not succeed." Looking directly into the doctor's eyes he asked, "When will he be fit for action?"

"I really couldn't say with any certainty," Dr Evans replied with a grave look on his face. "He seems to have been much closer to his work colleagues than I was led to believe and their 'deaths' have left his deeply depressed. We need to find something to motivate and encourage him to want to get better."

"Then I suggest you find a way and soon," his superior said with menace. "What about his injuries?"

"I'll have a better idea tomorrow, once we reach the new facility. I have some tests scheduled and the physical therapist there will be able to give her input." Dr Evans deliberately kept his tone neutral, knowing that the slightest hint of irritation would only provoke his employer further.

"I'll expect a detailed report in two days – no later," the man barked.

"Yes Sir," Evans agreed, as his employer turned on his heels and stalked down the corridor. Disappointing Jared Stark was not an option he cared to explore.

The next morning Dr Evans informed Darien he was to be moved. He explained that they had uncovered evidence of Chrysalis' involvement in the Agency bombing and it had been decided to move him to a more secure facility. Darien had hardly reacted. What difference did it make where he was anyway?

In an attempt to engage Fawkes in conversation and to get an answer to a question that had been vexing him for days, Evans changed the subject. "We've been carefully monitoring your tattoo since you were admitted Mr Fawkes and it is still showing ten green segments. We were under the impression, from your Keeper's files, that the segments slowly turn to red as your blood becomes saturated with quicksilver..." Dr Evans sounded puzzled, unsure how to continue.

"Huh? Darien was roused out of his semi-stupor by the surprising topic under discussion. "I don't need counteragent anymore," he replied with growing suspicion in his eyes. "Haven't needed it for months now. How come you don't know that?"

Dr Evans moved to reassure Fawkes quickly with a barely perceptible hesitation. "We're still waiting for your most recent medical records to be transferred. There was significant damage to your Keeper's computer files," he lied smoothly. He adopted a pained expression and continued, "I'm sure your Mr Eberts would have completed the task by now. I understand he was quite the expert in that field."

Darien settled back into his pillows. "Yeah," was all he said, his thoughts switching to Eberts' quiet competence. Anything, from retrieving sensitive data by hacking into computer networks or running an ultra efficient filing system had come easily to the unassuming man. If he could keep Bobby out of the filing room…

"So," Evans said forcefully, trying to distract Darien from the memories he could see bubbling to the surface in his patient's eyes. "If you could fill me in on some of the missing details, it would help me with your treatment."

Darien forced himself to concentrate on the doctor. "Uh, well, we managed to get some info from Arnaud. Claire…" there was a slight catch in his voice. Coughing to clear his throat, he continued, "She constructed a suicide gene to kill the cells that were producing the toxin…she saved my life," he concluded in nothing more than a whisper.

As Evans heard the explanation about the cure for quicksilver madness he maintained a look of professional interest. However, inside his head a voice was screaming 'Stark is going to go ballistic!"

When he eventually left the room the doctor was already trying to work out how to inform his employer of yet another problem with his master plan, without suffering his wrath. He just hoped there would be no thoughts of shooting the messenger.

Jared Stark sat behind his borrowed metal-framed desk and surveyed the dingy office they had provided for him. Oh how the mighty had fallen. His hands were clasped tightly together as he struggled to contain the rage coursing through his body. He'd always thought the idea of 'seeing red' was the fanciful imaginings of some writer – that was until Darien Fawkes had appeared on the scene and begun to screw up his near perfect existence.

"So, let me get this straight, Fawkes no longer suffers from quicksilver madness, is that what all your stuttering explanations and half formed apologies are leading up to?" Stark demanded, giving Dr Evans a stare that could have liquefied metal.

"Yes Sir," replied Evans, regretting the day he'd thrown in his lot with Chrysalis. Not that there had been much option really. Fleeing from England and the threat of prosecution for his part in an organs for money scam, Chrysalis had found him selling illegal prescriptions in a less than savoury part of New York. There was no returning to England. Even if he didn't end up in jail, the British Medical Association had revoked his licence to practise medicine.

Stark had promised him a seven figure salary and a new identity in return for his services for a few years. Due to the youthful appearances of the Chrysalis members they occasionally employed older people for limited periods of time to allay the suspicions of outsiders. Evans had been flown in from Chicago at a moments notice and been given just twenty-four hours to come up to speed on one Darien Fawkes, after the botched kidnapping had left him badly injured.

"Fawkes' bouts of QSM were essential to my plans," Stark said, his voice now menacingly quiet. "What do you suggest I do now, abandon almost six months of plotting to regain my rightful position? Throw in the towel and skulk off to some godforsaken backwater to live out the rest of my miserable existence?"

Stark drew in a deep calming breath and continued, "This whole elaborate scheme depended on forcing Fawkes into QSM and unleashing him on those he believed were responsible for the deaths of his friends. The madness and a high powered weapon would have done the rest. His damnable morals won't allow him to take revenge if he's in his right mind. He couldn't even kill the man responsible for his own brother's murder."

"Well Sir, I had no way of knowing…" Evans began.

"Enough!" Stark interrupted. "I WILL take advantage of the coming opportunity, but obviously I need to reconsider my strategy. Fawkes' usefulness however, is at an end. Terminate him."

The cold finality in Jared Stark's voice shocked Evans. The doctor had always enjoyed the high life and his conscience had hardly troubled him, as he'd sold anything from illegal drugs to human organs. He'd even carried out dangerous experiments on unsuspecting patients, but cold-blooded murder by his own hand? Had he fallen so far?

"I don't think…" he began.

"This is not a debate!" Stark shouted. "I said terminate him!"

Both men were distracted as a third man at the far side of the room spoke for the first time.

"I believe I have a solution," he said quietly. "The gland may still be of use to us."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Bobby Hobbes prowled around the Official's office like a predator waiting for the hunt. Every muscle and sinew in his body was taut, as he battled with barely suppressed energy. Fawkes had been missing for over two weeks. Two weeks of false hopes, frustration, and despair. He craved action, to feel he was doing something, to see results. Standing around wasting time talking was not going to get the job done.

"Bobby please…" Claire began, "all that pacing is making my head ache." Her voice held a sad, weary quality that he wished he could erase.

Hobbes looked over to where Claire was sitting by the window, the blinds drawn against the bright sunshine. She was looking pale and tired, but immeasurably better than on his first visit to see her in the hospital. She'd been extremely lucky according to the medical reports. The head injury she had received from the explosion in the Keep could easily have been much worse. As it was she'd only needed to spend four days in the hospital and a week resting at home, before returning to work. Probably too early, he mused, but with Darien missing, none of them felt like taking it easy.

Then to top it all, Claire's beloved Pavlov had disappeared whilst out with his dog walker. Someone had pulled up in a station wagon and asked for directions. She'd only been distracted for a few minutes, but that was enough; Pavlov was nowhere in sight. A search of the neighbourhood had proven fruitless, calls to the dog pound a waste of time. Even the posters and flyers had revealed no clues.

Bobby gave Claire an apologetic smile and perched on the table next to her. "Sorry Keep," he said quietly.

The ambulance transporting Darien to the hospital had been found abandoned three blocks away from the agency, together with the dead bodies of both paramedics. The few eyewitnesses around at that time of night only managed to give vague and contradictory reports of the incident. But, what they all seemed to agree on was that the patient, who was quickly bundled into a dark coloured van, looked in a bad way.

Investigations into the attack on the Agency had revealed that the explosive devices used were concealed in packages delivered that morning. Their regular deliveryman, Joe Davis had failed to turn up for work since that day and was currently their prime suspect. The problem was, they could find no motive for his actions.

Luckily, due to the late hour there had been very few people in the building and no one had died. Only Darien was unaccounted for and those who had been injured were now back at work. The Official's rage had been a sight to behold. As a result, new security measures were quickly being drawn up, but the damage had been done.

Bobby shook his head as his imagination started showing him ever more horrific scenarios of what might have happened to his best friend. He needed to banish such thoughts from his mind and focus on the task at hand. Fawkes was used to getting kicked around, in fact he seemed to have a real knack for it! Hobbes' face showed the ghost of a smile at the thought, but it faded quickly. Yeah, but he'd been there to watch his back. Now Darien was out there injured, alone and at the mercy of God knew what set of whackos.

"Bobby!" growled the Official.

"Sorry Chief," he answered, as he realised he'd lost track of the conversation. That wasn't like him. He usually had to fill Fawkes in on missed briefing information. Looking at the assembled group he didn't think any of them were on top of their game right now.

Eberts suddenly burst into the Official's office, his usually sallow complexion uncharacteristically flushed.

"I think Darien has been found!" he exclaimed loudly to the assembled group.

Bobby and Claire were on their feet instantly, with Alex rising mere seconds later. They rushed over to Eberts, clamouring for more information.

"Where is he, is he alright," Claire asked quickly.

Bobby's eyes blazed with hope for the first time in days. He'd tried to stay positive for Claire and Alex, but in this business he'd met enough creeps, weirdos and downright evil psychopaths to be more realistic.

"I, I'm afraid…" Eberts struggled to speak. "I'm afraid they have found a body," he concluded unhappily. "He…it, was found in a dumpster behind a restaurant downtown. Er, a vagrant was searching for food, but unfortunately he discovered Dar…er…a body instead."

The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound to be heard, as the atmosphere of shock could be felt like a physical presence.

"Oh, Bobby," Claire moaned as she turned towards him. Her face had a stricken expression.

Hobbes moved swiftly to catch her as she almost collapsed. He held her close, trying not to let his emotions betray him. After a few moments, he helped Claire to a vacant chair, knelt in front of her and took her hands in his own.

Alex stood alone, shock and anger evident in her expression. She'd only known Darien for about a year, but he'd somehow managed to get under her skin. His perceptiveness over her feelings for her missing son and his caring attitude had broken down some of the defences she'd built around herself over the years. He'd become the irritating, pain in the ass brother she'd never had.

The Official sat behind his desk an inscrutable expression, honed from years of practice, hiding his inner turmoil.

"I'm, ah…I'm afraid there's more," Eberts stammered. "Um…the body…um…it's headless," he managed to finish with a shiver.

"You mean they got the gland?" Borden breathed.

"I'm afraid so Sir"

Bobby stood outside the Keep, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the metal door. Darien's body had been brought back over an hour ago and Claire had insisted on examining it. He'd wanted to go in there and be with them both, but just couldn't face it. The guilt he felt was palpable. He should have been there that night to protect his partner. If he hadn't left maybe there was something he could have done. Maybe Darien would still be alive.

Before he could delve deeper into his feelings of guilt, the Keep door swooshed open. Claire came rushing up to him, the expression on her face a mixture of confusion and hope.

"It's not him, it's not him," she cried, as she clutched at Bobby's arms. "It's not Darien."

"Whoa there Keepie," Bobby said, trying to calm her down. The stress seemed to be getting to her. "Just take it easy."

"No, no, Bobby, I'm fine really!" Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and convince him she was in control.

The Official and Eberts chose that moment to appear and found Hobbes trying to calm an obviously agitated Keeper.

"Hobbes!" barked the Official, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Well, you see, ah…I was just..ah…the Keep…" Bobby began, his head tilted to one side, and his body squirming under the Official's angry gaze.

Claire cut through Bobby's ramblings forcefully, "Sir, Darien isn't dead, or at least that's not his body."

"What?" Borden exclaimed incredulously. "He was identified by the quicksilver in his blood and his snake tattoo. I saw it myself." He stood there shaking his head and massaging the bridge of his nose. He'd let her return to work far too soon.

"Yes, the tattoo," she agreed. "That's what got me thinking. It's showing two red segments! Don't you see?" she continued when the others stared blankly at her, "Darien's tattoo doesn't go red anymore – no toxin no red indicator!" She breathed a sigh of relief as the men around her seemed to eventually understand what she had said.

"Anyway, it piqued my curiosity and I decided to remove the chip, only there wasn't one. The tattoo on the body is just that – a normal tattoo." Claire's voice sounded happier than it had since Fawkes had disappeared. "I've started a DNA analysis, but that's just for confirmation. Personally, I'm certain I'm right."

Hobbes was having trouble processing this new information. He stepped away from the group and entered the Keep. Approaching the table, he pushed the white cover away and examined the upper right arm of the corpse, front and back. Fawkes had been shot whilst protecting a young girl named Jessica Semplar early on in their partnership. The bullet had passed cleanly through his arm, but had left two small scars. However, there were no marks on this arm. Proof positive in Bobby Hobbes' mind. Fawkes was still out there somewhere and he needed their help.

He straightened up slowly, flexed his shoulders and strode purposefully out of the door. It was time to get serious. Come hell or high water, he was going to make sure Darien Fawkes came home.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Bobby Hobbes was in full super-agent mode; focused, determined and showing what a top-notch operative he could be when not burdened with his mental health problems. Claire had been worried that without Darien's calming influence he might go off the deep end, but he was holding together well, making more progress in the last few days than the whole of the Agency managed to do in the preceding two weeks. Using all his Hobbesnet connections and calling in practically every favour he'd ever been owed, the trail was now red-hot and they were moving in on their number one suspect, Joe Davis.

The best the Agency had to offer were staking out a local liquor store, where Davis had been seen three days previously. Hobbes placed his men with military precision, covering every contingency and then sat back to wait for the man to show up.

They didn't have long to wait. At just turned six, Davis came into view, furtively darting worried looks in all directions. He seemed extremely nervous and ready to bolt at the least sign of trouble.

"Wait 'til he leaves the store," Hobbes ordered. Davis would be easier to take down with his hands full.

After almost five minutes Davis reappeared, laden with two large grocery bags. At a prearranged signal the agents swiftly moved in to subdue him.

"Federal agents," one of the men called, as they pounced. The bags crashed to the floor, scattering potato chips, glass and cheap booze all over the sidewalk. Within less than a minute Davis was lying on his stomach, hands cuffed behind his back and Hobbes' gun pointing at his head.

"Where is he you freakin' scumbag!" Bobby screamed. "Answer me now or your worthless brains'll be splattered all over the sidewalk!"

Darien sighed deeply and let his eyes wander to the skylight windows above him. God, he felt like crap! The move to a more secure facility had signalled the start of his physical therapy and the days since had been filled with exhausting exercises, pain and meds. Way too many meds. His thoughts were constantly confused and he felt like he had the attention span of a goldfish. He yearned to have a clear head and to feel normal again. Well, as normal as you could be, with a biosynthetic gland in your head!

Lying on his back on an exercise mat, Darien stared up at his therapist and asked in his best whiny voice, "Can't we call it a day? I'm beat." To underline his request he flashed those dark, velvety brown eyes. They usually did the trick with Claire, but Caroline was not to be swayed.

"Sorry, but we still have another few exercises," she insisted. They'd been following a punishing schedule, and although Darien hated the process he had to admit he was getting stronger.

Caroline felt Darien tense up, steeling himself against the coming pain, as she began to slowly flex his damaged knee in small increments. "Just relax Mr Fawkes, and count slowly to sixty."

"Easy for you to say," Darien managed to gasp through gritted teeth. Her idea of a sixty-second count seemed infinitely longer than his. They'd already worked on his shoulder and torso and he was starting to feel like a wet rag that had been wrung out and discarded on the floor. Man, it was hot in there.

After another fifteen minutes of exercises Caroline seemed satisfied. She smiled as she stood up and said, "Well, you're making excellent progress Mr Fawkes. What would you say to getting mobile tomorrow?"

"Mobile?" Darien's interest suddenly heightened considerably. He was exhausted and sweating, but being vertical again was an exciting prospect.

"Yes, the muscle and tissue damage to your shoulder, back and side is healing nicely and you should be able to tolerate using crutches," she confirmed. "However, I don't want you to get your hopes up too high. You won't be up to speed for a while yet."

"Okay," Darien replied slowly, "but will that mean I'll be able to go outside?" He was starting to get stir crazy after being inside for so long. Dr Evans had even insisted he should be sedated for the recent move – to minimise the trauma, or so he'd said.

He looked over to the corner of the gym, where a small dog lay, watching proceedings. Pavlov was the one good thing to have come out of the move. He'd been waiting patiently at the end of the bed when Darien had regained consciousness in his new room. With a, "Hey Buddy," from Darien, Pavlov had launched himself across the bed to enjoy a cuddle with an old friend.

"Huh?" Darien was brought back to the present when he realised he'd missed Caroline's reply.

"I said we'll see how you go, okay?" she repeated. "Let's get you back to your room now so you can get some rest. You look like you need it," she commented with a wry smile.

Darien let out an involuntary hiss of pain as Caroline and the waiting orderly helped him to his wheelchair. He was hot, tired and sweaty and couldn't wait for a shower. There were advantages to being up and about again. Getting a bed bath from a pretty young nurse might sound like the stuff of erotic fantasy, but reality had a way of making it lose its appeal.

Caroline patted Darien's shoulder. "Same time tomorrow, okay?" she called as he was wheeled back to his room. Pavlov trotted along happily beside him.

"I'm tellin' ya man, that's all I know!" Joe Davis insisted, his hands shaking. God, did he need a drink.

Hobbes and Monroe stared at each other, their expressions unreadable. They were in the padded cell that also doubled as an interrogation room at the cash-strapped Agency. Their preparations for a game of good cop/bad cop had been unnecessary. Davis couldn't wait to start talking.

"Let's just go over this one more time," Monroe insisted. "From the beginning."

"Aw man, I already told you," Davis moaned. Realising they would insist, he took a deep breath and began to retell his story. "I knew Hanks from way back, when we were just kids. Lifted stuff from the seven-eleven, that kinda thing. He moved away with his folks and we lost touch." He paused and looked up at Monroe. She nodded for him to continue.

"Anyway, we met up again a coupla months ago an' he offered to bring me in on a sweet deal. Big payout, ya know? I wasn't sure, but he said no one would get hurt and the money was guaranteed. All I had to do was put a few explosives into the packages I was delivering and come back later with Hanks an' grab Fawkes. It was just supposed to confuse everyone. I guess I screwed up huh?" he concluded sadly.

"You sure did pal!" Hobbes agreed angrily, approaching the seated man.

Monroe scowled at Hobbes to get him to back off. "Please go on," she insisted to Davis.

"Well," he began uncertainly, "I never met the boss, but Hanks was scared of him. If you'd known Hanks, you'd know he didn't scare easy. We ran when things got too hot at the Agency that night and hid out. We thought we were okay, but some guys in suits turned up a few nights ago."

Davis had a look of shock and revulsion on his face as he continued. "I'd been to the store and they were already in the apartment when I got back. The door wasn't closed right and I saw what happened. One of them, the boss I think, all he said was, 'I'm very disappointed in you', then he shot Hanks. No discussion, no argument, just shot him in cold blood! There was nothin' I coulda done, so I just ran."

After a couple of deep breaths Davis looked up and said, "I just remembered something. Hanks, before he died, he called the guy 'Mr Stark'."

"Bingo!" Hobbes exclaimed. "We got ourselves a winner."

Jared Stark was a very happy man. At last everything was falling into place. His plans were back on track, thanks to the surprising suggestion offered by his colleague Mark Carter. He'd known assigning Carter to work with Arnaud at the vineyard complex would pay dividends one day. De Fehrn may have escaped, but the information he'd provided was still proving invaluable.

Stark leaned back in his chair, a contented smile curling his lips as he replayed Hank's death over and over in his mind. It was his first 'personal' kill and he'd been surprised at how exciting and satisfying it had felt. Oh, he'd ordered plenty of others to kill for him, many times, but he'd never experienced the emotive power offered by pulling the trigger himself. The fear and unspoken pleas for mercy in Hanks' eyes had more than satisfied his craving for revenge. No need to spend days watching him suffer. This had been instant gratification and Davis would be next.

In a way, Carter's idea offered the same opportunity to be personally involved and it was something to be relished. The fact that it included using Darien Fawkes in the worst way, and achieving his objectives, made the plan perfect in almost every detail. The new breed of perpetual twenty-somethings would live to regret their attempts to oust the old guard. Or maybe more to the point, they wouldn't live to regret it!

His demotion for apparently failing to prevent the Agency from thwarting their plans had signalled the start of a quiet coup by the younger members of Chrysalis. Stark and his colleagues had schemed for more years than he cared to remember to engineer the perfect human being. However, by succeeding, they had produced individuals who now saw their progenitors as inferiors. It would seem they had taught the new generation too well. More and more of his fellow 'old guard' members were being replaced every day.

A knock on his office door brought Stark out of his reverie.

"Ah, gentlemen, are we ready to proceed?" he asked genially, as Carter and Evans entered the room.

"I believe we are Sir," Carter replied respectfully. Nodding towards the man beside him he continued, "Dr Evans has assured me Fawkes is making excellent progress and should be capable of carrying out his task by the time of the convocation."

"Yes Sir," Evans agreed. "Mr Fawkes' injuries have been healing well and his damaged knee should be able to function sufficiently well in another month to cause no problems,"

"Good. Then lets get to it shall we?" said Stark happily as he rose from his chair and led them out of his office. Darien Fawkes was going to rue the day they'd ever met!

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Another day, another torture session," Darien quipped as he slowly made his way into the rehab gym, Pavlov at his side.

Caroline smiled. Taking possession of the crutches Darien was using and helping to lower him onto the exercise mat on the floor she said, "Very funny Mr Fawkes." Humour was evident in her voice. "I may just have to think up some new evil exercise to pay you back for that one!" She knew she wasn't supposed to fraternise with this man, but it was becoming more and more difficult. His manner had an easy, disarming quality about it and she found herself struggling to remain detached.

"Mmm, I bet you could too," he replied. "Have you ever considered a career in interrogation? Your technique could be the way of the future." Darien grinned, his natural sense of humour reasserting itself. However, his expression quickly changed to one of guilt and he turned his head away.

Caroline understood, she'd seen it many times before. People coping with loss often felt guilty about going on with their lives, laughing again. Dr Evans' idea to use the dog had been a stroke of genius. Pavlov's presence had been the impetus they needed to motivate Darien and help in his treatment and recovery. It had given Darien something else to focus on, a welcome distraction from his grief.

However, Pavlov wasn't a cure-all by any means, and though he tried his best to hide it, a haunted look was still evident in Darien's eyes when he thought no one was watching.

"Right then, lets get started shall we?" she asked, eager to prevent him from dwelling on any morbid thoughts.

Darien's reply was interrupted by a low growl from Pavlov. Looking towards the door they saw Dr Evans enter the gym, closely followed by a man Darien had never seen before.

"Good morning Mr Fawkes," Evans began, "you have a visitor." He gestured to the tall, blonde haired man at his side. "This is Mr Carter, your new employer."

Darien looked over at the man and took an instant dislike to him. The last time the Official had been replaced, his new boss had turned out to be a soulless bastard called Luke Lawson. This Mr Carter had the same slimy feel about him, all smiles on the surface, but who knew what hidden agenda underneath.

"Hey, how ya doin'?" Darien drawled.

"Nice to finally meet you Mr Fawkes," Carter replied, extending his hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah, right. What can I do for you?" Darien wasn't really in the mood for an extended meet and greet.

"Straight to the point huh? Okay, I can do that." Carter turned to look at the doctor, then back to Darien.

"Dr Evans contacted me last week, after finding some interesting information in the files recovered from your Keeper's computer. It would seem she had just perfected a way to safely remove the invisibility gland," Carter said in a matter of fact tone.

"What?" Darien exclaimed, with a mixture of shock and surprise.

"If you are agreeable I would like Dr Evans to begin the treatments immediately," his new boss continued smoothly. "I understand you were an unwilling recipient of the gland and to be perfectly honest I would feel happier with one of my own agents as our 'invisible man'". He looked expectantly down at Fawkes.

"Um…ah…" was all Darien managed to say in reply.

Following the interview with Joe Davis, a sealed briefing had been hastily arranged in the Official's office. News of Darien's 'death' had been leaked, in the hope that they could fool Stark into believing his ploy had worked. Perhaps then he would get sloppy and let down his guard.

Alex was reviewing the situation, the others listening intently. "The information we were able to glean from Davis has proven extremely valuable. It suggests that Stark has all but severed his links with Chrysalis and is attempting to build his own personal power-base. He has tried more than once to neutralise the threat Fawkes poses and there is no indication that his decision to go freelance would change that position. The problem is," Alex paused, a concerned look on her face, "what does he want? He had the opportunity to take the gland, but if that were the case, the body in the Keep would really be Darien's.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed angrily, "that sneaky slime-ball Stark must be tryin' to use him somehow."

Borden nodded his head in agreement. The Agency had been a fly in the ointment of at least half a dozen of the higher profile Chrysalis operations, largely due to Fawkes. Stark's attempts to recruit Darien in the past had failed, and he had shown no hesitation in planning to kill the agent and harvest the gland. The fact that Stark had tried to fake Fawkes' death in this case did seem to point to Bobby's conclusion.

"We know Chrysalis operatives are active in this area at the moment and that something big is looming," Alex continued. "However our sources confirm that there is little or no communication between Stark and the organisation. As a result, I think it's safe to say that Chrysalis proper has no part in Fawkes' kidnapping.

Monroe glanced over at Hobbes, indicating that he should take over. Bobby offered her his seat and walked over to the window.

"I've also had my Hobbesnet contacts checking up on Arnaud, but he seems to have disappeared off our radar after escaping from the Agency holding cells. Didn't think he'd get all pally with Stark again after last time, but I wanted to cover all the bases. There are whispers that Stark caught up with him a couple months ago an' did our job for us, but I know 'de Freak' too well to fall for that one! Got more lives than a cat." Bobby was obviously disappointed that the rumours were probably not true.

"Anyway, Stark looks like he's working alone on this one. The Keeper an' Eberts have been using the computers to check for a money trail or any of his property holdings that can give us a lead." Hobbes looked expectantly at Eberts, who produced a file and began to detail their finding.

"There are a number of properties linked to Stark through dummy corporations," Eberts began efficiently, as he handed out his neatly typed information sheets. "We have had a number of the buildings under surveillance and I have marked the ones where activity has been reported. Of those, the locations we believe are most likely to yield results in our search for Darien are marked in red."

The Official sat behind his desk, a satisfied smile on his face. His agents were working like a well-oiled machine and he had no doubts they would be able to find Fawkes soon.

"Good work people," he said proudly. "Lets organise the troops and bring our boy back!"

Things were moving way too fast for Darien's liking. Here he was lying on a table in a sterile operating theatre, mere hours after being informed they could remove the gland from his brain. It was what he thought he'd wanted for over two years, ever since his brother had practically tricked him into becoming a lab rat. But now? Now he wasn't so sure. The gland, and the ability to become invisible at will had become such a part of who he was that he didn't know if he wanted things to change.

The cure for quicksilver madness had released him from his greatest fear - hurting or even killing someone when he lost control. Since then he'd begun to enjoy having his talent and working with his friends to beat the bad guys. He sighed deeply. Yeah, but they were gone now and he would have to learn to work with some other agency. His time at the FBI had taught him how lucky he'd been to work at the Agency. He couldn't be so lucky twice, to find what he had found there would be impossible.

Maybe it was for the best.

Dr Evans entered the room, followed by a nurse and Mr Carter. This was just going to be a preliminary treatment. Apparently Claire had constructed an agent that, when injected into the gland, caused the tendrils connecting it to the cerebral cortex to wither and detach themselves. The gland would then be extracted without damaging the surrounding brain tissue.

Once removed the gland could easily be repaired and implanted into a more willing host. The treatments would take several weeks; the operation being carried out when tests showed the separation was completed. After that, he would be free to do whatever he wanted with his life.

"Alright Mr Fawkes, are you ready for us to proceed?" Evans asked.

"Um, yeah I guess so," Darien replied uncertainly. "Are you sure this is gonna work? Claire didn't mention anything about this before…" he broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I assure you Mr Fawkes, your Keeper carried out extensive tests, and according to her notes, was just about to inform you of the procedure when the attack on the Agency happened. She didn't say anything because she didn't want to get your hopes up. It seems she wasn't sure how you would handle another disappointment if the tests were unsuccessful." Dr Evans was becoming a consummate liar.

"Oh," Darien managed to whisper. Even in death Claire was still looking out for him.

"If you'll roll up your sleeve, there's just a small injection I need to give you in your arm," Evans requested. He administered the shot, then, continued, "Now if you can turn over, this one has to be injected directly into the gland."

Darien rolled onto his stomach and gripped the table with his hands until his knuckles turned white. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst out of his ribcage. An involuntary moan of pain escaped his lips, as he felt the needle enter the back of his head. Within seconds the procedure was over.

The nurse helped Darien flip onto his back and he asked the doctor, "Is that it?"

"Yes Mr Fawkes, that's it," Evans confirmed. "How do you feel?"

"Fine, I think. I…uh-oh…" Darien stiffened as a strange, yet familiar feeling made itself known. Pain exploded behind his eyes as though he'd been stabbed with white-hot needles. He pressed his hands to his forehead, trying to press back the agony. Struggling to concentrate, he tried to remember when he'd felt something like this before, but all rational thought left Darien's mind as his body was suddenly gripped by violent seizures.

Evans and the nurse struggled to prevent him from falling from the table. He bucked and jerked under their hands, the involuntary spasms coursing through his body. Then, after what seemed like an eternity to Darien, unconsciousness mercifully claimed him.

Warned about what kind of reaction to expect, Dr Evans quickly checked Fawkes' vital signs and dismissed the nurse. He turned back to Carter, just as Stark entered the room.

"Well, that was an interesting display," Stark said dispassionately, having watched proceedings through a two-way mirror. "Did it work?"

"According to the information Arnaud provided, we should find out in about five minutes," Carter informed him.

After half an hour the tension in the room was building to unbearable levels. Something seemed to have gone wrong. Suddenly Evans noticed movement over on the operating table.

"He's coming round," the doctor reported, as he moved towards his patient.

"How disconcerting," Jared Stark commented, as he looked up through the eyes of Darien Fawkes and saw himself standing next to the table. "Well gentlemen, it appears to have worked."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Hey Partner, up an' at 'em. Come on," the voice urged. "You can't sleep the day away."

Darien swam slowly back to consciousness, drawn by an annoyingly familiar voice. Man didn't they ever turn the heating down in this place?

Struggling to focus, he opened his eyes to stare at the figure leaning over his bed. Darien's heart began to race. He could feel the familiar trickle of quicksilver starting to flow and had to fight to maintain control.

"B…B…Bobby?" he asked tremulously, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Whoa there kid, calm down. I've come to get you outta here," Bobby whispered as he darted a look towards the closed door.

"B...but, you're dead!" Darien blurted out, the shock of Bobby's presence and the drugs in his system making it hard to think.

"Bobby Hobbes doesn't bail on his partner, no matter what."

"Th...then you're a ghost? I don't believe in ghosts." Darien shook his head, but immediately regretted the action. "Ugh," he muttered through the pain.

"C'mon Fawkes, it's not safe here, we gotta go – NOW!" Hobbes urged forcefully. "These guys are not your friends. They're gonna use you, hurt you!"

Darien felt panicky, unable to shake the surreal scene. "Bobby, you can't be here, you can't be..."

"Look Fawkes, I said I'd always watch your back didn't I? You trust me don't ya?" When Darien nodded, Hobbes continued, "Well trust me now, c'mon."

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Darien struggled to sit up and swung his good leg over the side of the bed. He held onto the wall, managed to hoist himself upright and leaned over to grab his crutches. Suddenly an emergency buzzer went off in the corridor, distracting his attention.

Darien hit the floor hard, his head connecting with the wall behind him and the impact forcing the air from his lungs. He was left gasping for breath and he looked up with a dazed expression as the door to his room suddenly burst open.

A nurse rushed in, closely followed by two orderlies. She hurried over to where he was sprawled on the floor and bent down to check him over. After a cursory examination, she seemed satisfied and motioned for the orderlies to transfer him back onto his bed. Darien didn't have the strength to protest.

"Bobby?" he murmured.

"Don't believe them partner, trust me…" Bobby's disembodied voice trailed away.

Darien was fighting to stay conscious, "Bobby…come back," he managed to shout, in a voice cracking with emotion.

"There you go Mr Fawkes," the nurse said soothingly, as she placed a cool, wet cloth across his forehead. "Does that feel better?" She took another cloth and started wiping his sweat-drenched face. "You have a fever. Dr Evans has been called and he'll be here shortly."

A fever? Darien's thoughts whirled and tossed in his mind and he fought to get a grip on reality. Eventually he managed to croak, "Is Bobby here?"

"I'm sorry…" the nurse began, before being interrupted by Dr Evan's voice.

"Well, what have we here?" the doctor asked as he approached the bed.

"He has a temperature of a hundred and three doctor. I think he must have been hallucinating and he fell," the nurse reported.

"Any damage?" he demanded in an uncharacteristically harsh tone.

"I don't think so."

Evans visibly relaxed. One more problem and Stark would have flayed him alive. Returning to his usual professional manner he addressed Darien.

"It seems you've picked up an infection Mr Fawkes. I'll just check you over and then we'll see about making you more comfortable." He frowned as he turned Darien slightly to examine the area where they'd removed the embedded glass shards. "Hmm, no sign of infection there," he muttered to himself.

"Are you feeling any pain?" he asked.

"Headache," Darien managed to croak as he fought to focus on the doctor. "Thirsty…"

The nurse moved forward and helped Darien take a drink, then quickly withdrew.

Evans stood quietly at the side of the bed, deep in thought. There were no outward sign of infection, other than the fever. The wounds were still healing nicely. Could it possibly be the memory RNA injection? Carter hadn't mentioned any side effects, but Fawkes had been out much longer than expected. Stark's insistence on taking control of the body for hours on end, far exceeding Carter's recommendations, could also be a contributing factor. Fawkes was still recuperating and should have been getting plenty of rest. The matter needed serious investigation if he was to be ready for his mission.

Returning to immediate concerns, he turned to Darien and explained what he was going to do. "I'm going to set up an IV to keep you hydrated and to administer some antibiotics, Mr Fawkes."

Great, as if he didn't feel bad enough already! "Antibiotics make me nauseous," Darien managed to mumble unhappily.

"Don't worry, we'll see how you go and if you have any problems we'll give you an anti-emetic," the doctor reassured him.

Darien drifted into semi-consciousness whilst they set up the IV. They changed his bedding, removed his soaking pyjamas and began to bathe him, to help bring down his soaring temperature.

"What's going on here?" barked a familiar voice. Before Darien could put a name to the voice, the new drugs took effect and he drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Dr Evans turned away from the bed with a start and quickly ushered Jared Stark out of the room.

"Not here," he insisted.

"What do you mean the mission's scrubbed!" Hobbes practically screamed at the Official as he paced up and down the office. "Days of planning up in smoke, just like that?"

Everything had been arranged, agents were in place and the operation was due to commence in less than an hour. All the identified buildings linked to Stark were to be raided simultaneously, to ensure no warnings could be issued. They wanted to ensure that if Fawkes was at one of the sites, Stark had no opportunity to spirit him away.

Charlie Borden sat behind his desk, his face a mask of stone. "Hobbes," he growled menacingly, "I expect this kind of behaviour from Fawkes, but not from you. Sit down now and listen!"

Bobby stopped pacing abruptly. "Sorry Chief," he mumbled and slipped into a waiting chair. His years of conditioning to following direct orders, no matter what his personal feelings, kicked in to save him from a formal reprimand.

The Official's tone softened as he continued. "We are not scrubbing the mission, we are simply changing the timetable. I want Fawkes back just as much as you do, but not at the expense of jeopardising national security." He began massaging his temples; these tension headaches were a bitch.

"C'mon Sir, we're so close. We could be in and out by noon and Fawkes could be back at the Agency by this afternoon, safe and sound." Bobby's voice held a definite tone of desperation.

"If Fawkes is even being held at any of those locations," Borden pointed out forcefully. "I'm sorry Bobby, but we have to reassess our priorities." He nodded for Eberts to continue.

Eberts stepped forward slightly and explained, "We have received information from a reliable source that Chrysalis has moved its meeting forward three days. It will now take place the day after tomorrow. The source also confirmed that they are aware the sites we had targeted belong to Stark. Any pre-emptive strikes we make on those facilities would no doubt alert Chrysalis to the danger we pose and they may well abandon their plans. We cannot allow that to happen. Such an opportunity to apprehend so many high-ranking members of the organisation may never present itself again."

Hobbes listened intently to the reasoning behind the Official's decision, but decided to try one last tack.

"Chief, you know having Fawkes on our team would make taking down Chrysalis a whole lot…"

Borden interrupted Bobby before he could get any further. "Enough, the decision is made. I expect you and Monroe to have our agents briefed and ready by this afternoon. As far as we know the only change to their plans is the day. Everything else should be in place. Dismissed."

Hobbes could tell by the Official's tone that no further argument was expected, or would be tolerated. With an anger filled sigh, he left the office, slamming the door behind him.

Darien awoke with a start, realising the screams he could hear were coming from his own mouth. The quicksilver nightmares were getting worse day by day.

"Easy, easy, it's over now, you're okay," Caroline reassured him. She was standing at the side of his bed, one hand holding his, the other placed on his shoulder to press him back onto the pillows.

Darien couldn't shake the horrific monochrome images from his dream. He lay there gasping for breath, sweat stinging his eyes as it poured from his forehead. They'd managed to bring down his fever considerably, but it had stubbornly refused to break.

"I…I'm sorry…" he managed to whisper.

Caroline gently swept Darien's hair from his eyes and said soothingly, "Shh, it's okay, take it easy. Just take a couple of deep breaths. That's it…there you go." She could feel some of the tension leaving his body and his breathing began to return to normal. His panic seemed to be fading too.

She looked appraisingly at Darien. He looked terrible. He was gaunt and pale, with huge dark shadows under his eyes. Until a few days ago, he had seemed to be well on the way back to full health. The procedure they had carried out on him five days previously was having a devastating effect on his well-being. He had lost his appetite and what little he had managed to eat had simply been brought straight back up.

Stark's nightly excursions were physically punishing Darien and no amount of pleading from the medical staff could sway his plans. He insisted he needed to perfect his control over the quicksilver gland, but Caroline suspected Stark was revelling in his control. He seemed to derive a sadistic pleasure in forcing his enemy's body to the limit of its endurance.

Discovering that Darien was recollecting images from events when Stark was in control had given her employer even more pleasure. He had insisted that his RNA twin perform some truly unsavoury tasks, obviously designed to torture mind as well as body.

Caroline was a child of Chrysalis, raised to serve the cause. However, Stark had been her mentor and when he had asked her to follow him, she had willingly agreed. Now, she was seriously beginning to question her decision. She'd begun to care about Darien and the callous, calculating way Stark was torturing him suddenly seemed so wrong. When Dr Evans had asked her to help, by offering his patient comfort and friendship she had not hesitated. She could fool herself into believing it was for the good of the mission.

"Thanks for being here," Darien said quietly.

Caroline gently squeezed his hand. "You alright now?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah, I guess. Is Pavlov okay?"

Caroline smiled. That was so typical of the man she was slowly getting to know. He was more interested in how his dog was coping than in his own condition. "He's fine, I got one of the orderlies to take him for a walk. More importantly though, how are you feeling?"

"It's getting worse. I can see myself doing things, but I don't have any control. It's almost like quicksilver madness, but it's not like I don't care any more. I know it's wrong and I can't stop myself. Like someone else is in my head…I don't know… I can't explain…" his voice trailed off.

"Don't worry, it's probably just the fever," Caroline assured him quickly. "Once we get on top of that you'll start feeling better. Do you think you could get some more sleep if I stay with you?"

"I'll try," Darien agreed wearily and allowed his eyes to close.

Stark smiled at the scene he'd just witnessed on the video monitor. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have dreamed of such a perfect outcome. Fawkes was a shadow of his former self. No more wise-ass comments, no more messing up his life. He would be used to achieve Stark's ultimate objectives and the times when the Agency had triumphed over him would pale into insignificance. Oh revenge was sweet!

Just two more days and Sharon and her cronies would also feel his wrath. It didn't pay to cross Jared Stark.

Alex Monroe was seriously worried. Today's mission was one of the most important she had taken part in since joining the Agency and Hobbes was obviously not on top of his game. He seemed lethargic and distracted. Sure he had his problems, but when he was on a stakeout he was usually the consummate professional. This thing with Darien had Bobby off-kilter and she found it disconcerting.

They'd been in position for over two hours, watching the best and brightest Chrysalis had to offer gather for their conference. The Agency had quietly commandeered a number of the surrounding buildings and the agents were just waiting for the call to move in and subdue the suspects. Alex and Bobby were in a building directly opposite the front entrance of the meeting place.

"Hobbes, I need you to concentrate," she said, her voice harsher than she'd intended. "When this thing goes down, I need to know you've got my back." He didn't respond. "Look you're being unprofessional…"

That did it, Bobby immediately snapped to attention.

"Don't you ever say that to me again," he snapped. "Bobby Hobbes is never unprofessional! I got your back Monroe, don't you worry about that."

Alex realised she'd overstepped the mark and said in a more conciliatory tone, "I'm sorry, I know you're worried about Darien. Hell, we all are. We will find him Bobby."

"You better believe it sister," Bobby replied with conviction. "We take these guys down fast and hard, then, no matter what the Fat Man says, I'm getting Fawkes back!" He turned away from Monroe and gazed out of the window.

Suddenly his eyes widened in surprise and shock. "Oh my God!" he breathed. "I don't believe it…"

Alex was left open-mouthed as Hobbes rushed from the room. She couldn't believe it. He'd finally lost it and he was going to blow the whole set-up. The Official would have his badge for this!

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Thank you Sharon, you won't regret giving me a second chance." Jared Stark stood before the four members of the Chrysalis inner cadre, looking suitably contrite. He'd come before them on the pretext of apologising for his recent behaviour and begging to be reinstated as a member of the organisation. The real reason of course had been to provide a trouble free entrance for Darien Fawkes, who had accompanied him under the cloak of invisibility.

Stark had been dreading this part of the plan, thinking that to humble himself before these people would feel like the ultimate humiliation. However, he was finding the whole experience rather exhilarating. They had fallen for his portrayal of a defeated, remorseful man, who was willing to tow the line if only they would accept him back into the fold. The fools, he thought with contempt. This would be the last time they underestimated his talents.

Today was the day. Stark could barely contain his excitement as he excused himself and made his way back to his waiting limousine. The months of planning and struggling with problems was all over. Fawkes should be in the meeting room by now and, with the benefit of forward planning, members of Chrysalis wouldn't feel the need to wear thermal glasses. As far as they were concerned Arnaud and Fawkes were dead. He'd made sure of that, thanks to his creative use of false information and de Fehrn's cloned mask technique.

The masterstroke of the whole plan was Carter's suggestion to implant another nanobug into Fawkes. Stark's consciousness would be pulling the trigger and he would be able to view the whole thing from the comfort and safety of his own car. All he had to do now was sit back, relax and enjoy the show.

Fawkes was positioned in the far corner of the large, airy conference room, where the Chrysalis delegates were ranged around a large circular table. Following a further injection of melatonin that morning, Stark's consciousness was in control and eager to proceed with the assassinations. He was almost salivating with anticipation. Even the worsening persistent headache couldn't dampen his enthusiasm. As he watched silently, the final member arrived and took the one remaining seat. Deciding to wait in case any sensitive, and potentially useful, information was discussed he leaned against the wall behind him and took the weight off Fawkes' injured leg.

Preparing to bring the meeting to order, Sharon cleared her throat and addressed them. "Welcome my friends," she greeted them warmly. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend today. Our reorganisation is all but complete and we are ready to proceed with the next stage of our plans." She turned to a swarthy looking man on her left and in her lilting French accent said, "Guido, if you would continue."

He stood and without preamble began to provide details of their next operation. "As you know our scientists have been working on project 'Threshold' for over four decades. I am pleased to be able to announce to you today that success has been achieved and we will be in a position to begin implementing stage one of the dispersal phase before the year is out."

A polite round of applause followed Guido's statement and the delegates looked on with interest.

Guido continued, "The purpose of the meeting today is to discuss each sector's responsibilities in the implementation of this project and to provide you with the necessary information to carry out your individual roles."

Stark's consciousness decided they already had enough information on 'Threshold' and any timetable could be modified when he took control. It was time to act. He took out the semi-automatic concealed in his jacket and prepared to fire.

Suddenly an intense pain shot through the back of Darien's skull, causing him to gasp and almost fall to the floor. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out as wave after wave of agony assailed his senses. The struggle to stay invisible, and cope with the pain, was unbearable. When it finally began to subside he could feel a new sensation. Fawkes was awake and fighting for control!

Darien awoke when the first sharp lance of pain penetrated his skull. His eyes were tightly shut and he stood there, bracing himself against the onslaught until it began to subside. He cautiously opened his eyes and found himself standing in an unfamiliar room, quicksilver vision showing him a group of people sitting around a table mere feet away from him.

Slowly he became aware of an unfamiliar feeling in his mind, almost like he could perceive another presence. But that was impossible, surely? Looking down at his hand he saw the weapon he was holding and tried to drop it on the floor. His hand wouldn't obey his command! Almost imperceptibly it began to raise itself up, pointing the semi-automatic at the people seated at the table. Feeling the panic rise within him, he focused all his energy on regaining control, but felt his finger depress the trigger and a hail of bullets tore across the room.

The shock of the carnage wrought by the bullets banished the last vestiges of Stark's personality from Darien's mind and the semi-automatic fell to the floor, quicksilver flakes showering from it. He stood there, clutching onto the back of a chair to prevent himself from collapsing and dry heaved at the scene in front of him. What had he done? There was blood everywhere and the air was filled with the sound of people moaning in shock and pain .

Suddenly Bobby was at his side. "We gotta get outta here partner," he said urgently. When Darien didn't respond he tried again, "Come on, MOVE! NOW!" That did it. Darien lurched towards the door and hurried out as fast as his injured leg would let him. Unable to think clearly, he just followed Hobbes as he made his way down the corridor. When they reached the exit Hobbes stopped to offer words of encouragement, "Not far now kid. C'mon keep moving! Head down the street, you'll be safe there."

Darien looked up to protest, but Bobby was gone. Shaking his head to try and clear away some of the cobwebs in his mind, he realised he must have been hallucinating again. He pushed through the door, but only managed to stagger a little way down the street before the pain exploded in his head once more. This time he wasn't able to maintain the flow of the quicksilver and it shimmered from his body as he collapsed in a heap.

"I don't believe it!" Stark screamed in the back of his limousine. He'd been watching the whole scene unfold on his monitor and realised all his scheming had failed. He could see that most of the delegates were only injured and the two who appeared to be dead were from the Far East. They were inconsequential to his attempted coup. The plan should have worked out perfectly, but Fawkes had screwed up the whole thing - again! White-hot anger surged through him and he slammed out of the car, intent on dealing with Fawkes permanently. Commandeering his driver's gun and ordering him to stay put, Stark headed round the corner to exact retribution.

Alex stood there for perhaps fifteen seconds after Hobbes had rushed from the room. Making up her mind what to do, she dashed after him. He may have just committed the single most stupid act she'd ever witnessed, but he might need backup. Reaching the entrance, she un-holstered her gun, made a quick visual sweep of the area, then stepped cautiously out of the door and onto the sidewalk. Hobbes was nowhere to be seen. She quickly manoeuvred around a couple of parked cars and began to move carefully down the road.

"Oh Shit," she muttered under her breath, as a piercing alarm sounded from the building they had under surveillance. Making a split second decision she took out her radio and ordered, "All agents move in, I repeat move in. Use extreme caution, they know we're coming." The mission was blown and the Official would have a fit when he found out what went down, but there might still be a chance to salvage something from the situation.

Moving past a delivery truck, Alex was just about to return to the fray, when she finally caught sight of Hobbes. He was grappling with another man less than thirty yards down the road. A body lay unmoving at their feet. With a gasp she recognised the prone form as Darien, and from what she could see he didn't look too hot. So that's why Hobbes had bolted she thought. He must have seen his partner through the window.

Ignoring the commotion behind her, she rushed over to help, arriving just in time to see Hobbes deck his opponent and bend over to start pounding him into the asphalt.

"What the hell did you do to him you bastard?" he was screaming. "I'm gonna freakin' kill you Stark!" He emphasised his statement by kicking the man hard in the ribs. Alex reached the scene and struggled to pull Hobbes away from his target.

"Bobby, this isn't the way," Alex said urgently. "Darien needs you, we have to get him to safety."

All the fight suddenly left Hobbes and he turned towards his fallen partner. Alex quickly bent over a badly bleeding Stark and roughly cuffed his hands behind his back. She smiled grimly at his discomfort and hauled him to his feet.

"C'mon buddy, talk to me," Hobbes was coaxing, placing a comforting hand on a barely conscious Darien's forehead. He was burning up.

Darien's eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice and he whispered, "Bobby, you came back."

"Hobbes, we can't stay here, it's not safe," Alex said urgently. "Give me the keys and I'll get the van." Bobby threw them to her and she started dragging Stark to where they had parked Golda. As she hurried along she sent out a silent prayer for Darien to hold on.

Less than ten minutes later, Stark was shackled next to Monroe in the passenger seat, with Hobbes and Fawkes in the rear. Alex floored the gas pedal, determined to break the land speed record to get to the Agency as soon as possible.

"How's he doing?" she called back to Hobbes.

"Pretty bad," Hobbes replied looking down at his partner. "Must have overdone the inviso-act." Small tremors shook Darien's body and he was barely holding on to consciousness. Soft moans periodically escaped his lips.

Suddenly Darien roused himself enough to say, "Bobby…don't leave…you won't leave me again will you?"

"I'm right here kid. Not goin' nowhere, you can count on that," Hobbes reassured him, running his hand over his friend's feverish brow.

"Don't let me wake up, okay?" Darien managed to mutter before crying out in agony. His hands flew to the back of his head and he tried to claw the pain away. Hobbes clung on tighter to his partner whispering calming nonsense words and rocking him gently like a small child. Darien's body suddenly went limp as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Can't you drive any faster?" Hobbes yelled to Alex, as fear and frustration overwhelmed him.

"Yeah sure I can. I just thought I'd take the scenic route!" she shouted back angrily. "We'll be there in five."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

In just over four minutes Alex slewed the van to a stop outside the Agency's main entrance. Claire was waiting expectantly with a gurney and two assistants. They carefully lifted Fawkes onto the gurney and quickly headed down to the Keep. Alex took charge of Stark and dragged him unceremoniously down to the holding cells. She was hoping for a little quality time alone with him later. There would be no reinforced glass between them this time.

"Oh God Darien, what have they done to you?" Claire murmured, starting to examine him. She pursed her lips as she took his temperature and realised it was dangerously high. "He has a bad fever Bobby, we need to get his temperature down quickly. Help me get his clothes off."

With the help of cold water, ice packs and well placed fans they managed to cool Darien's body by a couple of degrees. Claire breathed a sigh of relief and moved around him efficiently, working to assess his condition. She was shocked at how thin Darien had become and incensed when she had to cut the brace away from his badly swollen knee. It could take months to repair that damage.

Slowly, Darien began to come round and Bobby and Claire moved closer.

"Easy there kiddo," Hobbes said when his partner began to struggle. "You're safe now, back at the Agency."

Darien slowly opened his eyes and whispered, "You're still here."

"I told ya, I ain't goin' nowhere," replied Hobbes reassuringly. Darien's body suddenly arched up off the table as yet another wave of seizures shook his body.

"Keep, do something!" Hobbes shouted, struggling to stop his friend from falling to the floor.

Claire looked undecided for a few moments, then quickly prepared the relaxant and injected it into the gland. Darien moaned softly in relief, before passing out.

"I don't know if I should have given him a shot," she said quietly.

"Why the hell not?" Hobbes asked in confusion.

"There's obviously more than just overusing quicksilver going on here," she replied, the worry evident in her tone. "God knows what they've done to him. My preliminary blood work shows a number of different drugs in his system. That would be dangerous enough in a normal human being, but with the complications caused by the gland…" Her voice trailed away, reluctant to voice her fears.

The swoosh of the door interrupted them and heralded the arrival of the Official, closely followed by Alex and Eberts.

"What's his condition?" the official asked as he moved over to the table. Darien's face was ashen and the dark smudges under his eye looked more like bruises. He laid a hand on Fawkes' shoulder, allowing a flicker of concern to cross his face before his mask fell into place once more.

"I really can't say until I run some more tests," the Keeper replied. "He's stable at the moment, but I think we may be in for a rough time, at least until the effects of the drugs in his system wear off. I can't believe how reckless and irresponsible those idiots have been. Frankly, it's a wonder they didn't kill him with their ignorance."

"Um, how did the mission go down Chief?" Hobbes asked sheepishly.

With a nod from the Official, Eberts began briefing them on the situation. "Unfortunately the majority of the Chrysalis members we hoped to apprehend managed to escape. We found three dead bodies in the conference room and were able to take two others into custody. They are both badly injured however and are not expected to live. Luckily we did not lose any of our own agents."

Hobbes looked over at the Official uncertainly. He didn't look upset. In fact he looked downright sanguine about the whole thing.

Eberts continued, "We recovered a great deal of information stored on computer disk, which, although the majority of it is encrypted, I believe I will be able to decipher in time. Looking over at Hobbes with an approving half smile he said, "Of course, apprehending Jared Stark is also a great bonus."

"Well done Bobby," the Official concurred happily. "Not a bad day's work." Before turning to leave he looked at Claire. "Keep me informed," he ordered, then disappeared through the door with Eberts following at his heels.

Hobbes breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been expecting a reprimand for almost blowing their surveillance, and he didn't think his salary could stand the fallout from that!

By the next day Darien's vital signs were improving. However, he still hadn't woken up and had given them quite a few scares through the night. His heart rate had fluctuated wildly and his blood pressure was dangerously high one minute, then, quickly plummeted the next. On occasions his brain activity was off the chart, giving further cause for concern. The Keeper had worked tirelessly to stabilise him and had refused all attempts to make her get some rest. Once he'd stabilised they'd moved him to lab three to make him more comfortable.

Bobby was applying a cooling cloth to Darien's forehead when he eventually began to show signs of waking up. Claire moved to take his hand and swept the wet hair back from his face.

"Darien, open your eyes sweetheart, come on," she coaxed. His eyes fluttered, half opened and then closed again, as if it was too much effort. "Come on sleepyhead, Bobby and I have been waiting hours to welcome you back properly." She kept her tone light, hiding her anxiety.

Responding to Claire's urging, Darien tried again. This time he managed to open his eyes fully. He blinked a few times in an attempt to bring things into focus.

"Claire…Bobby…" he said in barely more than a whisper. Tears welled up in his eyes and slowly started slipping down his cheeks. "Please don't let me wake up."

Hobbes moved to take Darien's other hand and looked over to Claire in confusion. "He said something like that to me when I found him," he told her with worry etched on his tired face.

"Why buddy, why don't you want to wake up?"

"Cause you'll all be dead again. I wanna stay here with you," Darien managed to croak through his tears.

Realisation dawned on Claire and she tried to reassure him, "This isn't a dream sweetheart, it's real. We're really here, alive and well. Jared Stark kidnapped you, did he tell you we were dead?"

"No, no," Darien began, shaking his head, "I saw you in the hospital. I let them turn off the machine. I let them k..kill you…you looked so pale…your hand was so cold.." He let out an anguished cry and moved his arm over his eyes to hide his tears. Taking a deep shuddering breath he continued, "Bobby was in the morgue. I didn't believe it at first…I made them show me. Please let me stay here with you. Don't let me wake up!"

Claire was horrified. How could Stark have put Darien through that? It was truly evil; an unforgivable form of mental torture for anyone, but especially so in Darien's case. He had lost so many people in his life and with everything he'd endured over the last few years, it could easily have pushed him over the edge.

Bobby placed Darien's hand over his own heart. "Look at me Darien," he said insistently. "Can you feel that? That's my heart beating. I'm alive and so is Claire. Stark grabbed you and he's been messin' with your head. We found you and you're safe now, you listenin' to me partner? You're safe."

Conflicting emotions raced across Darien's face. He desperately wanted to believe Bobby, but how could he? If he began thinking this was real and then woke up, he didn't know if he could stand to feel that loss again. His turbulent thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

"Look who I've brought to see you all," Alex said with a smile as she entered the lab. In her arms she was carrying an excitable little dog.

"Pavlov!" Claire exclaimed happily. "Where did you find him? I thought I was never going to see him again!" She rushed to take her beloved pet from Alex, but he jumped out of her arms and ran over to jump on Darien's bed. "Oh," she said in surprise.

Darien scooped the little dog up in his arms and clung to him as if his life depended on it.

"A young boy just dropped him off at the front entrance. Apparently someone paid him twenty dollars to deliver the dog and an envelope and gave him precise information on how to get to the Agency," Alex informed them. "There was a letter for Darien inside and the Official asked me to bring it down," she said handing the sheet of paper to him. "Glad to see you're back with us." Turning back to Claire she continued, "They want to see you and Bobby in the office straight away. I'll stay here and keep him company."

Looking over at Darien, she said quietly, "It's from a woman called Caroline."

Jared Stark sat in his cell wondering how long it would be before his mRNA twin awoke and could get them out of this mess. He had no doubt that once his consciousness reasserted control over Fawkes it would find a way to break him out of there. He had very little respect for the Agency staff and knew they could be easily duped.

The Official had tried interrogating him, but Stark was made of sterner stuff than they'd bargained for and he barely broke a sweat. Having faced defeat at the hands of the Agency before, he wasn't about to just cave in and reveal everything. This was simply a lost battle; the outcome of the war was yet to be decided. He settled back on his bed, closed his eyes and smiling slightly, settled down to wait patiently for his rescue.

Darien lay quietly listening to Alex read the letter he'd received from Caroline. He couldn't face reading it himself. There were too many confusing thoughts and emotions bubbling inside him.

"….I'm so sorry for the pain and suffering we inflicted on you and I hope that returning Pavlov will in some way atone for my part in that," Alex read aloud. "I came to care a great deal about you Darien and I hope that some day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. By the time you read this I will be in Europe and from there, who knows? I hope to find a place where I can use my medical training to make a difference for the better. I realise I'm probably placing my life in danger, Jared can be a very vindictive man, but I can no longer condone his actions. Thank you for helping me to discover a more compassionate side to my nature. Stay safe, with love, Caroline." Monroe stopped as she reached the end of the letter and looked up at her friend.

"Are you alright?" she asked with concern. Darien looked shell-shocked.

"Then it was all a huge con," he whispered. "I was sure of it in the beginning, but they were so convincing. Once I saw Bobby's body, I was sold. Those bastards, they knew exactly which buttons to push!" Tears were once again pouring down his face, but this time they were tears of relief. This was real. He was safe, back amongst his family and it felt good.

Agent Walters was standing guard outside the room housing Jared Stark's cell when he saw Darien Fawkes slowly making his way down the corridor on crutches. He looked like hell and his ordeal had been the talk of the Agency since his return.

"Should you be out of bed?" the agent asked as Darien approached him. It was just after midnight and Fawkes looked like he should be resting, not roaming around in the middle of the night.

"Needed some air, they're smothering me with kindness," Darien replied with a laugh. "Can I see him? I have a few choice words for Mr Personality in there."

"Are you sure? We all heard what he did to you," Walters replied uncertainly as he held open the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Darien quickly. "I think being able to vent a little anger will make me feel better. Why don't you go get yourself a coffee? I'll stay and watch him 'til you get back."

"I don't know…will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, honest," Darien assured him and watched as Walters headed up the corridor. Once the door was firmly closed behind him, Darien turned to face his erstwhile tormentor.

"What took you so long?" Stark snarled. "I've been waiting for three days for you to turn up! Three days of stupid questions, bad food and even worse company."

"Fawkes was in no condition to come down here before now. I'm still not sure I should have come so soon. The guard outside might decide to check up with his Keeper."

"Well get moving then and get me the hell out of here!" Stark ordered. There was no hint of his usually urbane manner.

As Fawkes pressed the last number of the code into the keypad, the door lock clicked open and Stark stepped out. All they had to do was make their way carefully to the entrance and take out the two men guarding the doors.

"Do you have a weapon?" Stark asked urgently.

"Yeah, I took one from the Keeper's desk," Fawkes replied.

"Hand it over then. There's no way you can use the crutches and fire a gun," Stark reasoned smoothly. It would also ensure that Fawkes would have no defence when a bullet in the head paid him back for his 'help'. Stark had no qualms about killing him, even if his own consciousness was awake within the body.

When they reached the entrance, the two duty guards were engaged in conversation with Walters in a small anteroom. The Agency's security was obviously as lax as ever at this time of night. They slipped from cover and silently manoeuvred past the unsuspecting men, making it through the exit without raising the alarm.

Once outside, Stark turned to his companion. "Thanks for the help my dear twin," he cooed with an evil grin. "Too bad I like being an only child." He raised the gun, pointed it at Fawkes' head and pulled the trigger.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Nothing happened.

Darien stood there, a wide grin spreading across his face as the trigger mechanism of Stark's gun clicked ineffectually.

"Sorry to disappoint you Jared, but I like my face just the way it is thanks and giving a loaded weapon to a raging psycho like you isn't on my 'to do' list for today," he quipped.

Stark seemed transfixed by this totally unexpected turn of events. The look of utter disbelief on his face was priceless.

"Man, I wish I'd brought my camera," Darien whined.

"Got you covered there partner," came Bobby's voice as he emerged from the Harding building. He snapped the Kodak moment and smiled over at Fawkes. It was good to see the kid looking happy again.

Agency men seemed to materialise from everywhere and Stark felt himself being grabbed from behind, as his arms were quickly pinned to his sides. Any chance of escape vanished, but that hardly mattered. He was too stunned to make a move.

"But how..?" he finally managed to ask weakly.

"Not so much fun when you're on the receiving end of a con is it Stark?" Darien asked gleefully.

"Yeah, thanks for coming quietly," Alex said with amusement. "These nice gentlemen here are going to take you to your very secure new home," she continued, nodding towards the two agents restraining him. "I'll be along in a day or so to enjoy some personal time with you." The quiet menace in her voice wasn't lost on the prisoner.

The doors to the Agency opened and Claire, the Official and Eberts emerged to witness Stark's final defeat. They watched silently as he was dragged to the kerb and bundled into the waiting Agency van. Stark's dumbfounded face was the last thing they saw of him before he was driven off to the secure facility, where his interrogation would begin in earnest.

"Bye, bye, don't forget to write!" Darien shouted after the departing van. Turning towards the Agency building he suddenly staggered slightly as the night's events started to catch up with him. Bobby was immediately by his side to steady him.

"You okay there kiddo?" he asked in concern.

"Never better," Darien replied with a grin, but it was obvious he was exhausted and he leaned heavily on his partner.

With his usual forethought, Eberts had arranged for a wheelchair to be close by and Darien was soon settled in it and on the way back into the building.

"Thanks Ebes," Darien called back over his shoulder as Bobby pushed him through the main doors, Claire by his side.

"You are most welcome Darien," Eberts replied happily.

Across the street in a dimly lit alleyway a familiar figure sat in a dark sedan, watching the scene play out. He smiled slightly and pulled the car out into traffic, following the Agency van at a discreet distance.

Darien was spent. He'd argued long and hard to be allowed to get his own back on Jared Stark, but was beginning to think his friends might have been right to object. There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't ache and his head was pounding relentlessly. Oh, but it really had been worth it!

"I knew I shouldn't have agreed to your silly little plan," Claire complained loudly as she fussed around his bed. "You're not strong enough to go traipsing around the building facing down criminals. Anyone can see you're exhausted and I think your temperature's up again.

"Hey, come on Claire chill out, please," replied Darien quickly. "I feel better than I have in weeks, honest...and I don't think I've ever 'traipsed' in my life!" he concluded with another wide grin. Maybe he did feel like crap physically, but mentally he was on cloud nine. "Oh man, did you see that bastard's face? Made the whole thing worthwhile!"

Looking up at Bobby, who was hovering around the bed worriedly, he said, "Hobbes order me a full set of prints would ya? And don't forget the handy wallet size!"

"No problem Fawkes, but will you calm down and get some rest now? The Keeper's gonna have my hide if you don't get some sleep." Hobbes nodded at Claire, whose look of disapproval was making him decidedly uneasy.

"I'm too wired to sleep," Darien insisted, but lay back on his pillows in an effort to placate her. Within minutes his eyelids were drooping and he was soon fast asleep.

Claire sighed with relief. It finally looked like Darien was getting some badly needed rest. She had to admit that his plan for a little payback seemed to be having a positive effect, but at what cost? In an ideal world he would get a good night's sleep and wake up refreshed. But, realistically, that was unlikely. He'd been sleeping fitfully for the past couple of nights, waking regularly, as if fearful that his rescue was all a dream. No amount of reassurance on their part could settle him for long.

She had considered sedating Darien, but quickly rejected the idea. He'd been pumped full of a cocktail of drugs for weeks and there was no knowing what long term effects there might be from that, never mind adding more to the mix.

Claire looked over to where Bobby was sitting watching over his sleeping partner. Tonight's events could so easily have gone down very differently if it hadn't been for Caroline. She smiled to herself – yet another conquest of the Fawkes charm! The envelope delivered to the Agency had also contained a letter for Bobby and herself detailing the elaborate charade, the drugs administered and the implantation of Stark's memory RNA. Whilst Alex had stayed with Darien, the Official had informed the Keeper and Hobbes of the situation and Claire quickly synthesised the anti-peptide solution needed to neutralise the mRNA.

Claire smiled to herself as she thought about that shot. She had been expecting him to protest at yet another injection, but Darien couldn't wait for her to perform the procedure. Just the thought that anything of Stark's twisted psyche could be contaminating his mind was enough to give him the shivers.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door to lab three opened slowly and Monroe entered.

"You two look beat. Go grab a couple of hours and I'll keep an eye on Fawkes," she said forcefully.

Ready for their objections she continued, "Darien is going to need us on top form if we're going to help him get better, don't you think? If he does wake up you'll only be a couple of minutes away. Eberts has made up Gloria's old room and put in an extra bed, okay?" She waited expectantly for their answer.

Bobby sighed deeply, stretched his aching muscles and headed towards the door. "Fine, but wake me up in a couple of hours, you hear me Monroe?" When she nodded her agreement he looked over at Claire.

"C'mon Keepie, bedtime," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Claire giggled despite her exhaustion. "Bobby!" she exclaimed in mock exasperation. Checking that Darien was resting peacefully, she turned and left the room with him. A few hours sleep was definitely the order of the day.

Just over an hour later Monroe's stomach was reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a while. Ensuring that Darien was alright, she decided to make a quick sortie to the Keep for an early breakfast. She was sure Claire wouldn't mind if she raided her supply of snacks.

Having collected coffee and supplies Alex set off back down the corridor. As she approached lab three she could hear Darien talking to someone.

"Why can't you do it? I'm tired," she heard him moan. "C'mon Hobbes, let me sleep okay?"

Alex sighed resignedly. She'd known Bobby wouldn't stay away for long. Checking her watch she noted that he'd only rested for ninety minutes or so. Well, it was better than nothing she admitted to herself. Deciding to leave them to talk, she headed back up the corridor. Maybe having breakfast whilst watching the dawn break would be quite nice.

Turning the next corner she bumped straight into non other than Bobby Hobbes himself as he emerged from lab two.

"Whoa there Monroe," Bobby said, catching her arm to stop her from falling.

Alex couldn't have been more surprised if a little grey alien had suddenly appeared in front of her. If Bobby was here, then who the hell was Darien talking to in lab three?

"Oh shit!" she breathed, dropping her breakfast on the floor. She turned around quickly and raced back to Darien's room, leaving Hobbes open-mouthed behind her.

Entering the lab at a run, Alex was met by a strange and disturbing sight. Darien was lying in his bed, face turned to the far wall and talking animatedly to – nothing! She approached cautiously, unsure of what to do.

"Are you alright Darien?" she asked in concern.

He turned towards her, relief evident on his flushed face.

"Bobby says Eberts needs help and I have to get Claire. I told him I couldn't, but he keeps going on and on about it. Will you tell Claire?" Darien broke off as if listening to someone else.

"Yeah, I told Monroe okay?" he said in exasperation. He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Alex, will you tell Bobby to leave me alone and let me get some sleep, please!"

Alex didn't know what to make of the scene. Was Fawkes teasing her, trying to wind her up? No, she dismissed that idea almost immediately. He seemed genuinely frustrated and the feverish look in his eyes wasn't a good sign.

"Fawkes, who are you talking to?" she asked quietly.

Darien looked at her as if she's gone mad, then indicated the empty space at the side of his bed.

"It's Bob…oh, he's gone again." He looked very confused and tried to explain. "Bobby woke me up

…he won't let me sleep…I'm so tired…He said Ebes was hurt…will you tell Claire?" Darien's tone was almost pleading. His eyes began to close, but he roused himself to stare up at Alex. "Promise…?"

"I promise Darien" she assured him. Looking satisfied, his eyes slowly slipped closed again. She gently placed her hand on his forehead. It was hot and sweaty. Moving swiftly over to the phone she called the Keeper, just as Bobby arrived in the room.

"Claire, it's me," she began, "Sorry to disturb you, but Darien's not doing too good. Can you come straight down?" She sighed with relief and replaced the receiver when Claire confirmed she was on her way.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked urgently, moving to Darien's side.

"I think he's hallucinating again. He thought you were here, and from what he said the other 'Bobby' is just as annoying as you are." Alex's attempt at a joke to lighten the mood fell flat. Hobbes was in no mood to laugh. He just wanted his partner back.

Within minutes Clare was examining Darien. He was sleeping fitfully and mumbling under his breath.

"He said Bobby was here in the room with you?" Claire asked, looking for confirmation. When Alex nodded, Claire's concern deepened, but, "Mmm," was her only response. She took Darien's temperature, then, stepped away from the bed.

"His temperature is up again, but other than that, he seems fine. I just don't see why he should be hallucinating. I wish I could work out what's happening to him!" Her growing frustration was unnerving and Bobby paced around the room with a dark expression on his face.

"I'm going to check on Eberts," Alex said as she looked at her watch. "I've got the strangest feeling that Darien might be right."

"Good idea," Bobby replied. "I'll come with you." He was feeling useless just standing around and jumped at the chance to be doing something positive. "You'll let me know if there's any change?"

Claire smiled reassuringly at him and nodded. "Don't worry Bobby, I'm sure I'll work this conundrum out soon." She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. As they left, she turned back to the task at hand.

Almost an hour later Claire was sitting in the Keep reviewing the latest test results.

"Oh, bloody hell," she exclaimed in horror. "How could I have missed that?" She feverishly searched through her desk drawers until she found the documents she was looking for. Scanning the information, Claire made a list of items and then rushed around the lab collecting equipment together.

Once she'd set the necessary process in motion, she phoned the assistant watching Darien.

"Is he still asleep? Good, don't let anyone see him and don't discuss anything with him until I get there. The Official's with you? Can you tell him I need to see him immediately? Thank you."

Claire turned back to her equipment. Synthesising the compound needed to deal with this situation was her top priority right now. It would only take a couple of hours, but it seemed far too long a time at that moment. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't hear the Official enter the lab.

"What's so important I had to be dragged down here at this time of the morning?" he grouched unhappily.

"We have a serious problem Sir," Claire said without preamble. "I found another nanobug in Darien and I think the agents who are transferring Stark may be in danger."

It was amazing how fast the Official could move when faced with a crisis. He immediately contacted the facility where Stark was being transferred. As he listened to the person on the other end of the line his face became grimmer by the second.

"They should have been there by now, but there's no sign of them," he informed the Keeper as he terminated the call. "A search is being organised, but from what you've told me I can only fear the worst." Glancing at the clock on the wall, he frowned and barked, "Where is Eberts? I need him to coordinate things here."

Just then the Keep door swooshed open. Bobby and Alex entered, supporting a very dazed looking Eberts.

"Albert!" Claire exclaimed in surprise. "What happened?"

"Tried to change a light bulb without the use of a safety net!" Hobbes replied in disgust. "Don't think he'll be getting any points for the dismount."

Eberts had a large bump and a nasty gash above his left eye. Claire moved over to attend to his injuries, efficiently cleaning the cut and carefully applying a bandage.

"There, does that feel better?" she asked kindly when she'd finished.

"Yes, thank you doctor," Eberts replied. "If I could have a couple of aspirins, I'll get to work."

"Oh no you don't," Claire said, placing her hand on his chest to prevent him from rising. "I want you to rest here for the day. You might have a concussion and I want to keep my eye on you."

"I need him in my office in ten minutes!" barked the Official. "It's just a little bump for God's sake."

"Sir, if he rests now, he should be fine by tomorrow. If you make him rush around today, and he has a delayed reaction to the accident, you might be without him for far longer," Claire warned.

The Official seemed torn, but then said angrily, "Right, I'll defer to your judgement this time, but I'll need him in bright and early tomorrow morning. There's a great deal to get organised."

"Of course Sir," Eberts answered promptly. He seemed deep in thought for a few moments, then asked, "I was just wondering…how did Darien know I needed help?"

Alex, Claire and Bobby all exchanged perplexed glances.

Good question.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

Claire sat disconsolately at her desk staring unseeing at the swirling screensaver on her computer monitor. Everything was such a mess! Investigations into the disappearance of the Agency van had yet to yield any clues and the guilt she felt over her part in its disappearance was clawing at the edges her consciousness. If only she'd found the nanobug sooner, Stark's people wouldn't have known about his transfer and their agents wouldn't be missing. She sent up a silent prayer for their safe return and fervently hoped their blood wasn't on her hands.

And what about Darien? There were far too many unanswered questions about his condition for her liking. It was still too early to decide whether his knee needed more corrective surgery, but the thing that concerned her most was the unexplained fluctuations in his temperature. He was obviously run down and exhausted, but was she missing a more serious condition?

Claire sighed deeply. It wasn't just Darien's physical well being she was concerned with either. He was covering well, but there was bound to be more emotional fallout over his ordeal in the coming weeks and months. He'd shown remarkable strength and resilience when confronted with the myriad crises facing him since the implantation of the gland, but no one could carry such a burden alone. She was thankful he had come to trust Bobby and her as friends and confidantes over the last couple of years, but his reluctance to discuss these last weeks of captivity and his unwilling part in killing the three Chrysalis delegates worried her a great deal.

"Non of this is your fault Claire, you know that right?" Darien's voice penetrated her thoughts and she jumped in surprise. Looking up, she saw him standing in front of her, leaning on his crutches.

"I could say the same thing to you," she answered with a wry smile. "Anyway, what are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be resting."

"I'm fine, honest, but the walls were starting to close in on me in there. Do you think we could go outside?" There was more than a hint of desperation in his voice. It had been weeks since he'd been able to enjoy the feeling of the sun's rays on his face, and if he'd been getting stir crazy when he was in the rehab centre; he was one step away from losing it now.

Claire smiled at his pale complexion. "Yes, it looks like your tan could use a little work! Let me just check you over, then we'll collect Pavlov and take him for a constitutional. I want you in your wheelchair though, is that clear?"

Darien sighed deeply, but complied with Claire's requests. At that moment, he'd agree to just about anything for a chance to get outside – even, God forbid, wearing a sober suit and tie.

When he was pronounced fit for their excursion they headed back to lab three. Hobbes was sleeping deeply in a cot by the door and they decided to let him catch up on some much needed rest. Leaving him a note, they collected Pavlov and the wheelchair and headed out of the building.

"Man, that feels good!" Darien exclaimed as he turned his face towards the sun. It was a beautiful day in downtown San Diego and he fully intended to enjoy his first taste of freedom in way too many weeks. "Ya think we could call by the bakery on the way?" he asked hopefully.

"Nice to see your appetite's returning to normal anyway," Claire observed, once again berating herself internally for her failure to get to grips with his condition.

"You'll figure this out Keep, I know you will," Darien stated with conviction, picking up on the reason for her sombre tone. "You just need a break, that's all, think about something else. That usually works."

"Maybe you're right," she answered uncertainly. "I just don't want a big crisis to blow up without having the slightest idea what's going on in that brain of yours."

"Now there's a thing people have been trying to work out since I was a kid!" Darien joked, trying to lift her mood. "How about just taking the morning off then, huh?" he asked cajolingly. "You can get back to being the focused and dedicated scientist this afternoon."

"It's a deal," Claire willingly agreed. "Now, where's that bakery?"

They returned to the Agency an hour later, their purchases held securely in Darien's lap. He'd already managed to polish off half a box of donuts on the way back, but the bag of breakfast bagels for Hobbes was untouched.

"Hey Hobbes, brought you a present," Darien called as Claire wheeled him into lab three. "Had a good sleep?"

"Yeah, out like a light." Bobby stretched his arms above his head, as he perched on the edge of his cot. Heading over to check out the bagels, he commented, "Not really a good thing when you're in our line of business my friend, but hey, you don't usually have to baby-sit your partner twenty-four seven." He grinned, making sure Fawkes understood he thought it was worth it to have his partner back safe.

"Darien, you're going to make yourself sick if you eat any more of those," Claire chided as he started to devour yet another donut.

"What can I say? I need the sugar rush," Darien replied, trying to keep his face straight. "'Sides, I'm working on building myself up," he added, plucking at the t-shirt he wore as it hung loosely on his lean frame.

"I won't deny you could do to put on a few pounds, but I think we could get you something with a little more nutritional value, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I bet it wouldn't taste as good," he answered, unrepentantly selecting another pastry.

Hobbes rolled his eyes at Claire, who clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but offered no further comment. At least he was eating again.

The intercom on the wall beside Darien buzzed loudly and the Official's voice drifted into the room.

"Are you there doctor?"

Claire moved across the room quickly and pressed the button to answer, "Yes Sir, I'm here."

"I want you and Hobbes in my office as soon as possible," he ordered gruffly, before cancelling the call.

She exchanged a worried glance with Bobby, then, turned to Darien.

"And I want you in bed by the time we get back alright?" she told him in a commanding tone.

"Why? I feel fine," Darien whined and would have protested further, but she gave him a look that said she wouldn't tolerate any further argument. "Okay, okay, bed," he conceded grudgingly.

"Can you manage?" Hobbes asked him quietly. At Fawkes' reluctant nod, he smiled and turned to follow the Keeper out of the door.

"We received this by courier ten minutes ago," the Official informed Claire and Bobby, waving a video tape in front of them. Alex and Eberts had already been present when they'd arrived a couple of minutes earlier and from their concerned faces this didn't bode well.

"It's a personal message for Darien from Jared Stark," Eberts told them. "We thought it might be prudent to view the tape before deciding whether or not to give it to him."

"Probably a good idea. That guy is a certifiable sicko," Bobby agreed with distaste.

Eberts took the tape and inserted it into the waiting machine in the corner of the room. All eyes turned to the television screen and within seconds Stark's smirking face appeared.

"By now you must be aware that I have eluded you again," he gloated unpleasantly. "I'm afraid your friends weren't that lucky and met with quite an unpleasant end. Knowing your liking for photographic evidence I thought you might be interested in this," he said holding up a blown up image of three mutilated corpses.

There were gasps of horror and disgust from the assembled group as they recognised the bodies of their colleagues.

Stark continued with a humourless smile, "I must admit to being disappointed that you have managed to thwart my plans once again. However, I think it only fair to warn you that battles may be lost, but the outcome of a war is never certain until the final shot is fired. Have no doubt that I'm still a force to be reckoned with and the next time we cross paths I fully intend to see you dead." He said this with no hint of emotion, as if it were simply a statement of fact.

"In the meantime, I've been indulging in a little genealogical research," he said, apparently changing the subject. "You have a very interesting family Darien. Such a pity there are so few of them left. Your father seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth, but I'm sure your Grandmother and Aunt Celia must be a great comfort to you. I wonder if they will buck the trend and die peacefully in their own beds?" Moving closer to the camera, he stared unblinking into the lens, "I've been seriously considering taking a more personal interest in your family's health. What do you think?"

Stepping back and moving towards the far end of the room Stark continued, "Speaking of family, I do hope the delectable Ms Monroe is with you. If you look through the window behind my left shoulder you should be able to see someone of interest to her." Once again his mouth twisted into the travesty of a smile.

A small child of perhaps eighteen months could just be seen toddling across a well-manicured lawn towards a kneeling woman. Eleanor Stark swept the little boy up into her arms and turned her back to the window. After far too brief a glimpse, the child Alex had carried for nine months disappeared from view.

All colour drained from Alex's face and she struggled in vain to stop tears from flowing freely down her cheeks.

"Before you ever decide to threaten me again my dear, just remember who holds that precious boy's life in his hands." The words were spoken with true venom. The last image of Stark before the screen went black chilled Alex to her very core. He would follow through on the unspoken threat, she was sure of it.

Claire placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

Alex simply nodded and continued staring intently at the blank screen.

"Sir, I don't think we should show this to Darien, he's been through enough at the hands of this man, don't you agree?" Claire's tone made it clear she wasn't asking, she was insisting.

"Too late," came a voice from behind them. Darien stood there with his head resting against the doorframe, his face pale and drawn.

Claire once again sat at her desk in the Keep, but this time her mood was quite different. Her subconscious had been working overtime in her sleep that night and she'd awoken at three am with a working theory about Darien's condition. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. It all seemed so clear now.

The quicksilver gland's interaction with the pineal gland could explain a whole host of things. The area of the brain where the pineal gland was situated had long been the subject of many mystical traditions and was thought to be a source of supernatural energy. This "third eye" was said to perceive higher dimensions and some of Darien's dreams had shown flashes of precognition in the past. His latest experiences with a spectral Bobby were most probably a further development.

The lab was strewn with papers and notes she'd read and discarded as she searched for evidence to support her theorem. Ever since the Simon Cole incident she had carried out extensive research to see if there was a chance to sever the connection, or at least prevent interaction, between the two glands. Her efforts had come to nought, but the information she'd collected was proving invaluable now. After hours of reading, cross-referencing and rechecking data, Claire was positive she had discovered the answers she'd been seeking. Her Kept wasn't going to like the idea of more tests, or the conclusions she'd reached, but that couldn't be helped. There was no point denying the truth.

Now all she had to do was explain the situation to Darien without terrifying him!

Darien sat in stunned silence. Yesterday's events were bad enough, but if what Claire was telling them was true, they'd just gotten a whole lot worse. He could hear her voice droning on in the background, but was barely listening to her explanation.

"The hypothalamus regulates body temperature and has a connection to the pineal gland. Whether the manifestation is triggered by the high temperature or causes it I'm not sure, but I'm now certain they are linked. Hopefully the tests I have planned will provide clarification." Claire's presentation was interrupted by the Official's gruff voice.

"You seriously expect me to accept this explanation?" he snapped.

"Sir, you can't deny that Darien has already exhibited flashes of prescience in the past through his dreams," Claire pointed out calmly. "Think of the Benjamin Scarborough case, or what about his nightmare before his father returned?"

"Prophetic dreams are one thing doctor, put phantom partners appearing to warn of impending danger are quite another."

"I think I may be able to explain that element as well," Claire replied quickly. "I've found some obscure references which suggest a link between the pineal gland and imaginary friends in children. It seems the phenomenon may well be due to the production of high levels of melatonin. Children have much higher levels than adults and this seems to allow some of them to sense forces that are beyond most people's perceptions."

"So you're saying instead of being Ralph, I'm seeing Ralph?" Darien managed to mumble distractedly. The days of confusion and uncertainty during his kidnapping were crowding in on him with a vengeance. How could he cope if he wasn't sure what was real and what was imagined? Living in a constant state of uncertainty would be hell.

Noticing the fear in Darien's eyes she moved over to kneel by his chair and placed her hands on his knee.

"You may not have another episode Darien," she began in a reassuring tone. "It might have been caused by the cocktail of drugs and excessive amounts of melatonin in your body, or the injection of mRNA, or by a combination of them all. The other Bobby hasn't reappeared since your system has been clear of their effects has he?"

"No," Darien admitted slowly, "but you can't give me any guarantees can you? Bottom line is, I'm even more of a freak now than I was before." He could feel tears stinging his eyes and quickly moved to dash them away. It was one thing to cry in front of Claire or Bobby, but he wouldn't show weakness in front of the Official.

"We'll cope with this Darien, I promise," Claire said insistently. "Now I know what's happening, we can monitor the situation and explore ways to control any reoccurrence. It's just one more little quirk caused by the gland."

Bobby placed a comforting hand on Darien's shoulder. "Don't worry about it kid, with two Bobby Hobbes to watch your back, you'll be fine."

Two days later Darien was sprawled out on the large sofa in his studio apartment watching his friends bustle around. Claire and Alex were busy in the kitchen preparing dinner, whilst Bobby and Eberts were struggling to assemble a cot under the far windows.

Darien had been truly frightened by the prospect of returning home alone, but his rising panic had been assuaged when Bobby insisted on coming to stay for a while. Nothing was said, but he was sure his friends had picked up on his feelings. The memories of gut-wrenching loss and despair seemed to creep up on him when he was alone and it was easy to imagine the 'deaths' of his friends had been real. Having them around him offered much needed reassurance.

Everyone had rallied round since Stark's dire warnings and the new factors concerning the gland were explained. Darien had to admit the revelations about tapping into elemental forces and precognition had freaked him out, but Claire's no nonsense, practical manner helped to calm him, as usual. She had an itinerary for new tests that ran to more than four pages and was determined to take control of the problem. Even the Official had come through by providing discreet protection for his Grandmother and Aunt.

Darien heartily agreed that the adage, "May you live in interesting times," was meant to be a curse. He'd had enough interesting times recently and he fervently hoped things would get really boring around there for a while. Even without the use of clairvoyance, he didn't think that wish would come true.

Loud bickering from Hobbes and Eberts interrupted his musings. They sounded like children in the schoolyard.

"I'll tell you exactly where rod B is gonna go if you don't back off, and it ain't gonna be in slot C," Hobbes shouted angrily.

"Really Robert, there's no need to get hostile. I was merely…"

"SHUT UP EBERTS!" Hobbes bellowed at the top of his voice as the last of his patience evaporated.

Darien grinned. Things were definitely getting back to normal around there.

As they settled down to dinner that evening, Darien couldn't help thinking that, though the gland was responsible for him losing so much in his life, it had enabled him to finally find his true family.

The End.


End file.
